Meltdown
by Lilyrose55
Summary: It's bad enough to be lusting after your married partner, but it can get worse when he's finally free and still not yours. EO, obviously.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** It's been a while since I've posted anything, and this is a story I've been trying to write for 3 yrs, with my mojo playing on and off tricks on me. I've finally made significant progress and am actually working on the last chapters of this fic, so I've decided to start posting it now, on a whim, before I lose my courage again.

So about this fic…you're gonna hate me first but you'll love me later on ;)

kukrae, I hope you'll be willing to consider this as your much delayed Christmas card :)

Nikki - thanks once more for the banner. My very limited technical abilities couldn't make it fit to this site's banner guidelines, but I couldn't give it up, it's too beautiful.

 **Chapter 1:**

Is it normal to think about gaps? About the distance between two shirt buttons? About what's behind them? About what it'd feel like to slide your fingers into the space between a couple of buttons and feel what's underneath? Olivia shakes her head once to banish the thought and walks over to the nightstand that CSU has already dusted for fingerprints. Not far from her, Elliot stoops to look at something that the technician is pointing at on the carpet, and from the corner of her eyes she still sees the necktie he's tucked in between his azure dress-shirt's buttons, she sees the rolled up sleeves, the arms that he leans on his knees and how his muscles flex and strain. She averts her gaze.

"Liv? Liv!" His rough voice shakes her back into the space of the car twenty minutes later, back to his hands on the steering wheel, to the smell of his aftershave, to his shirt and its buttons and the gaps between them.

"What?" she asks.

"So what d'you think?" Elliot's impatient tone reminds her that she's drifted for a while after they left the scene and that she has no idea what his question was. But she can guess, the case, what else.

"It's simple," she shrugs, "well, as simple as it can be when you have a rape victim involved. A known assailant, left his DNA and fingerprints all over the bedroom and apartment. Piece of cake," she mutters without looking at him.

"Yeah," Elliot mumbles back. "Fin and Munch already picked him up, should be easy wrapping this up, paperwork included."

Her eyebrows raise at this and she carefully peeks at him without turning her head in his direction. He hates paperwork, always postpones it, but recently he's been making sure to finish it on time, as if he's afraid to be stalled by their Captain unexpectedly, when it's less convenient to him and to his blooming social life.

It's hard for her to admit it, but it pisses her off. Elliot has a social life. He's been divorced, what, half an hour? How come he's already dating? She's been single all her life, she's well trained in that arena, she's aware of how she looks, and even she doesn't meet so many people so fast. Besides, dating is her realm, but nowadays she has to listen to things like Fin asking Elliot if he's met up with a woman that gave him her phone number when apparently they went to a bar together after work, and to Elliot responding that 'no, I'm kinda seeing someone else'.

She still needs a mind-bleach when she thinks of that night a few weeks ago, when they all went to a bar after work. They were sitting at their favorite table and she felt rooted despite the alcohol buzz in her blood. But then another round of drinks was needed and Elliot volunteered to get it. She felt a happy excitement in the pit of her stomach, of solving a case, of feeling at home, surrounded by her friends, with him, and something about him getting her another drink at the bar gave her a warm and fuzzy feeling of belonging. But then it took him a bit longer than it should, and when she looked towards the bar, she saw him. He was leaning his right elbow on the bar, their drinks in front of him, the glasses sweating already, while he was busy talking to the woman who stood next to him, his body pivoted towards her, their shoulders brushing as they talked. The grin on his face sealed it – Elliot was flirting. The only times before that, that she'd seen him flirt, were when he'd been undercover, or needed to get some woman to cooperate with them, or his stupid banters with her which hadn't really count as real flirtation. In one moment the happy excitement in her stomach turned into a rising bile that threatened to make its way to her throat.

Yes, things are different now, she thinks as she hangs her jacket at the hanger behind her chair in the precinct. She's different too, older, tired. Sometimes she feels like all she wants is to crawl back into the convenient spot she's been in up until a few months ago, when everything, well, almost everything, was in place. Yes, she was alone and work was her life back then just like it is now, but she was mostly fine with her place in life, with the routine. She was comfortable with her partner, they had their ups and downs but they were mostly ok. But then he got divorced and everything changed. He got divorced but it was she who lost her footing.

Even the way she found out was different. It wasn't weeks of concealing, of falling apart. No. He walked over to her one evening when she was making coffee, and leaned against the counter at the kitchenette, crossing his arms on his chest. "I'm moving out," he said quietly, looking at her.

Her hand froze mid-stirring and she just stared at him, trying to grasp at what he was telling her.

"The Unit?" was all she managed to rasp as she felt her face flush with the blood that gushed from her fast beating heart all over her body.

"No. Home," he said and she felt like the blood had left her face and body all at once.

"What? Why?" her voice trembled, her hands probably did too, because she remembers placing the mug really carefully on the counter.

Elliot pressed his lips together and slightly shook his head, searching for words. His eyes roamed the room before they returned back to hers. He sighed quietly before he spoke. "We tried, we were successful for a while, but…," he sighed again, "it's just…," his lips pressed further together, "there wasn't much left once everyone moved out." His shoulders rose slightly and then he continued. "But we're fine. We are. We know that it's best that way, to end it like that and not ruin whatever there's left. For us, for Eli."

He was quiet then and she realized that she was just staring at him and that it was her turn to say something. "I'm sorry, El," she half-whispered. "Are you sure you're ok? Is there anything I can do?"

"No," his smile was soft, lop-sided, a bit sad. "I'm fine, I will be. I just wanted to let you know." A beat passed and he added "thanks, Liv," with the same soft smile and she mirrored it back at him.

"Sure," she said, her hand rose and brushed over his arm in a comforting gesture.

Elliot breathed out and walked back to his desk, and as she picked up her coffee mug, still looking at his retreating back. He started talking about the case they were handling and everything went back to normal, or so she thought.

At first she'd thought that, just as before, he wouldn't be able to make it and he'd be back with Kathy sooner or later, but then she realized that things this time were different, very different.

Olivia sighs inaudibly as she slumps into her seat and turns her computer on. Elliot does the same, opposite from her. She looks at his face; he seems focused, intent, almost serene. She hasn't seen him like that in…in never. A part of her is happy for him but she can't admit and she can't deny that she misses their balance. It took them years to get to a place where things between them were clear to her, where she could suppress thoughts about her partner's love life, when being irritated and cynical wasn't her constant mood. Perhaps getting older makes her less agreeable to change, perhaps he's going through a mid-life crisis, or maybe she is.

It's not like she sits and mopes, she knows herself well enough and it's been years since she's realized that what she feels for him isn't innocent, but it has become a part of her, part of her life and she knows how to cope with that. This is Elliot and she should be used to this, to him, to herself. But Elliot, being out of the usual context she's used to see him in, confuses her. Even when he was separated several years ago, he mostly still maintained the same context, because everything in that separation was about his family, and in the only times he acted out of context - with Rebecca Hendricks, with Dani Beck - it threw her off balance. It took her almost two years to gain it back. Now something inside her rebels and refuses to get used to the idea that family-man Elliot is divorced, enjoying his freedom, fucking around.

Elliot. Fucking.

Her eyes dart over the top of her computer screen to gaze at the way he concentrates at his, as he slowly types his report. He shifts in his seat and her eyes hurry back to her own screen and she forces herself to continue typing too. Who are these women? The thought keeps biting at her, but she stops it before it gets to the more galling questions like why, when, how and what the hell.

The usual cacophony around them slowly subsides as people leave to go home. Their suspect admitted after a very short investigation, and now they're finalizing their reports. Elliot gets up once and brings them both coffees and she thanks him and takes the cup from his outstretched arm and they smile at each other. It's so usual, regular, everydaylike, it makes her gut churn. Soon she finishes typing her DD5 and some other tasks that have been patiently waiting for her, and she raises her head and watches him again. Elliot feels her eyes on him and tears his off the screen and returns her gaze. "All done?" he asks.

"Yeah. I think I'm gonna head home," she says as she turns her computer off and stands up, stretching. "You coming?"

"No, it's still early, I thought you could fill me in on that other case you wanted me to look into," he says.

"Early?" She squeezes her lips together. _What happened to lively social life?_ she quietly thinks. "I thought we could go over it tomorrow. I have this thing…," she says and watches as his eyes move between hers quizzically. She isn't going to say more though. She's been dating a guy and he's not something to write home about. He probably never will, but she's scheduled to meet with him tonight.

"Ok," Elliot nods and she can see that he's holding back the questions. "See you tomorrow then."

"This is the casefile, why don't you go over it and we'll talk about it tomorrow?" she hands him a folder and he takes it. She then smiles at him and grabs her jacket. "Have a good evening," she mutters on her way out. She too has to hold back so many questions.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

The white fluorescent lights, the windows that are covered with a layer of dust that doesn't allow the daylight to fully permeate the large and bustling bullpen, the chirps of phones and faxes, the headache bud that threatens to throb in her head. It all gets on her nerves the next morning.

Olivia stretches back in her chair and a quiet sigh escapes her lips. Elliot raises his head for a moment from the documents that are scattered on his desk and throws an inquiring gaze in her direction.

"Nothing…the computer," she mumbles dismissively in response and tilts her head towards her rebooting computer screen, and Elliot loses interest. He looks just like he did when she left him in the precinct the evening before, except for the clean shave and the fresh shirt.

She needs to call the fucking IT department, she thinks, while her computer takes its time to restart for the second time this morning. She sneaks a peek at Elliot, who seems to be enamored with his files, drinking his coffee, looking all busy and concentrated.

It annoys her. She's not sure why. Usually he's not a morning person, hell, she isn't even sure if he's an evening person either, but with her mood today, next to her he actually looks almost cheery. It's going to be a long day.

"Morning, hope this cheers you up," he nearly slammed the cup on her desk half an hour before, when she cursed her computer the first time it got stuck and wouldn't budge from the page she tried to navigate from. He stood there, towering above her with that confident stance of his, looking at her with his clean shaven face, the ironed shirt, his fresh smell, and for some reason it all made her want to slap the little smile off his face.

Now finally her computer starts again and the first thing she notices is an email that reminds her that soon she has to attend a 2-day conference that Cragen has asked her to go to. Damn, she's actually been looking forward to it, but right now, even this seems like a burden. She's just ticked off for no real reason.

Well, come to think of it, she has enough reasons. There's Elliot being a self-absorbed asshole at times and kind and considerate and confusing at other times, and there's the guy she's dated for a few weeks, till last night, and it has lasted that long only because she forced herself to like him since he seemed like a stable type of guy, but then she couldn't get over the lukewarm fuck he's turned out to be, and that was when he really tried his best in bed. So she dumped him at 1am last night because she's tired of all those man-wannabe's. God, aren't there normal guys out there for her? Where are all the strong, clever, sexy, brawny men that could keep her interested?

Twenty minutes later, her computer is back on and she gets up to pour them both another round of coffee. "So?" she asks from her place at the coffee corner.

"She was a pro", he says, fumbling through the folder she gave him last night. "It's not obvious, there are hardly the usual signs, but if this had been our case from the very beginning, we would've established that sooner."

"It was Homicide's. They had a vague suspicion that something was off, but it seemed like a clear cut case at the time. She was a 'nice girl' that got mugged and murdered by the perp, so they didn't dig deeper. Only when our vic told me her roommate had been murdered a few months ago, I asked for their closed case."

"It's not a coincidence. Sarah is found raped and bruised and her roommate was murdered five months ago? That's gotta be connected, which might mean that Sarah's a pro too." Elliot says and his face is stern. She's known him for years and years and this job never affects any of them any less.

Olivia places the two cups on her desk and sits down. "I'm guessing she is, though she fooled me. She did try telling me something, she was afraid of someone. She probably knew that her roommate wasn't just mugged. Now Sarah's gone. I just hope we find her before she ends up like her roommate, Maria."

"What else d'you have?" Elliot gets up from his seat and takes the few steps that bring him to her side of the joint desks. He places the folder on her desk, brings his eyes to her and reaches his hand for the coffee cup. He then half sits on her desk, as if preparing for a long conversation.

"Nothing yet, I alerted other units and Computer Crimes. Maria and Sarah are not streetwalkers, maybe they published their services online."

"Ok. We can work on this one together now," Elliot sighs, and she knows that he's thinking about all the other cases that are piling up and waiting for their undivided attention.

She nods quietly and takes the time to sip her coffee. She watches Elliot as he's about to get up and away from her desk, when she notices the woman that has entered the bullpen from the side door and stopped right beside their joint desks, her eyes boring into Elliot's back.

"Can I help you?" Olivia asks, and Elliot, still seated at the edge of her desk, pivots his torso to see who she's talking to. His body stiffens at once.

The woman doesn't even bother to look at Olivia, as Elliot jerks up to his feet. "Sandra!" he calls out in a hushed, surprised tone.

"Hey there," the woman answers in a sweet voice. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by to say hi." Her smile is like sunlight in the fluorescent lit squadroom.

Olivia's mouth almost drops open. Elliot is standing close to her now, but his back is half turned at her as he's facing Sandra, who's a rather tall, well-shaped blonde in a green dress.

"Um, hi," she can hear the smile in Elliot's voice, "we're kinda busy here, we have a case…" She can also hear the discomfort.

She doesn't have time to close her still agape mouth because Elliot turns towards her all of a sudden. "Liv, this is Sandra Bevan, she used to work for Social Services," he says, as if this explains anything, and then turns again to the blonde, "Sandra, this is my partner, Olivia Benson."

Olivia watches him and she knows him well enough to see that he's uncomfortable and displeased with the surprise, despite the courteous introduction.

"I prefer Sandy," the woman says as she's taking two steps towards Olivia who gets out of her chair to shake the outstretched hand. "Nice to finally meet you, Elliot's partner," the blonde says in that sweet tone and Olivia feels the bile rising. _Finally?_

"Nice to meet you too, Sandy," she answers with a smile, stressing the adolescent nickname the woman prefers, and she can feel Elliot's eyes on her, just as her desk phone starts ringing. She wears on an apologetic expression and turns her back to the two and grabs the receiver as if it were her lifeline. "Detective Benson," she answers it with a hoarse voice.

As the colleague on the other side explains to her what he's found out, Olivia slowly dares to turn around and sit back in her chair, because she senses that Elliot and the green dress are not behind her anymore. She sees them standing close together, talking at the side-exit of the room, where Elliot has probably escorted her to see her off. He's facing the bullpen and his eyes meet hers. Olivia quickly points at the phone, mouthing "Computer Crimes", doing her best to seem engulfed with the phone conversation. Elliot nods with a half-smile, his eyes return to the green dress, and she watches him rubbing his palm over the blonde's arm before she leaves. No goodbye kiss, she thinks as he's making his way back to her. No kiss, but this woman surely went home with him more than once. _Where's the fucking mind bleach, for God's sake?_

She averts her eyes to the other side of the bullpen and her eyes meet with those of John Munch. In the brief second they gaze at each other she sees the surprise, the question and the slight sarcasm in her colleague's eyes. She averts her eyes from him too and just stares at her desk till she hangs up the phone.

"They have something for us?" Elliot asks matter-of-factly, returning to his desk, ignoring the visit he's just had.

"Yeah," she ignores it too although her mind's a whirlwind, "they found a picture of Maria, Sarah's dead roommate, on a 'Dark Net' website they're scanning."

"'Dark Net'?" Elliot asks, rubbing a hand over his forehead, and she's not sure if it's because the term bugs him or because he's still trying, like her, to clear the sight of his visitor from his mind.

"Yes, c'mon, I'll explain on the way," Olivia says as she grabs her jacket and heads towards the main exit of the squadroom, enjoying the few seconds she has to breathe before he catches up and strides by her side.

As they walk outside she speaks and talks and explains, anything to cover for what they're both obviously trying to avoid talking or thinking about. Elliot wears on his black leather jacket and when they reach the car she offers to drive them, just so she will have something to focus on besides his smell and his leather and his shirt and his Sandy.

"So basically, it's a name for untraceable websites that use encoded communication systems, special protocols that enable full anonymity. Each entry to this Net is done through a different and unknown IP address." She explains as she stirs the squad car into traffic, her eyes gazing through the windshield.

"How's that different than the usual psycho net?" Elliot asks and she feels his eyes on her, but she doesn't return his gaze.

"First, the websites there are marked with the word 'onion', after 'The Onion Routing'. It was actually developed by the Navy about a decade ago to protect secret agents' communication, but then others started using it too. Let's say you log in from New York, ok? Your IP address will show that you're logging in from a Zimbabwean owned ship somewhere in the Indian Ocean, for example. Your computer will keep roaming between different IP addresses that don't link to each other."

"So if it's untraceable how did Computer Crimes find it?"

"Facial recognition found a match to the picture, but they can't say what computer it came from. They track the Dark Net all the time because it's used by hackers to hack into government sites, to get top secret data they can sell. This net uses digital coins, 'coins', to buy the goods. And you can imagine what the goods are. No one can trace you. It's heaven for pedophiles, drug dealers, arm dealers, terrorists, you name it."

"So they found her picture in there?"

"Yeah, apparently people that use this Net feel so safe there that they're publishing everything about their 'goods', including pictures."

"Maria was there as goods?" Elliot's tone makes her tear her eyes from the road and look at him.

Olivia purses her lips. "Yes. Among others for sale too."

"Sarah too?"

"No, not Sarah. At least not yet."

"How come I hear of this Net just now?" Elliot asks after a short pause.

"A lot of it is done by the FBI, it's way above us." Olivia brings her eyes back to the road and starts looking for a parking spot.

They're quiet for a few moments and she wonders if he's still thinking about his visitor.

"How come you know so much about it?" he asks, looking at her again.

"Still have friends at Computer Crimes, and I still find their stuff interesting," she shrugs and for a moment she's reminded of what made her leave for that unit and what made her come back.

They're quiet again when they walk over to the building and just as they enter the lobby, the elevator doors open and she feels Elliot's hand on the small of her back, ushering her in. It's part of their regular, synched cadence, but the touch of his hand singes the skin under her shirt.

Elliot presses the button with his ringless left palm and they stand next to each other, their shoulders touching, and she realizes that in the last few months, for the first time in at least five years, the no-space between them has become unnerving to her again.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

 ** _He's grabbing her, his hands on her biceps, his lips hard on hers, his tongue in her mouth, treating it as its own. His taste and smell fill her, his hard body against her. She's smoothing her palms over his biceps, his tattoos, his chest, grazing her nails across his back. It all pools between her legs._**

 ** _Elliot is backing her up to the desk till she's leaned against it, her back arches as he leans in his weight, his mouth latching on hers as they drink each other's taste. His hands are locked on her body, one still on her arm and the other on her back. Her arms roam his body, touching him through his clothes, holding on to the hard plains of muscles that his shirt hides._**


	2. Chapter 2

"So, we're gonna talk to Albero, he found the picture," she says and uses the distraction of the spoken words to physically distance herself slightly from him so that there will be a gap of a few inches between them in that small elevator space. Elliot just signals 'ok' with a slight bow of his head as they reach the right floor.

At John Albero's desk she introduces Elliot and the Computer Crimes detective already has Maria's picture opened for them. "This is her, right?" he asks.

"Yes, that's the first vic. We're looking for her roommate, she's our vic, raped and beaten, disappeared after I talked to her. We think they were pros, maybe illegally forced to be ones," Olivia replies. "Sarah didn't look like a pro, and Maria's body didn't have the usual signs of one."

"When was it loaded on here? Maria's been dead for five months," Elliot asks as he leans over Albero's shoulder and looks closely at the screen.

"This is the website I found it in," John Albero replies as he zooms out of Maria's picture and shows them a webpage of what is obviously some sort of an escort service. "It's not on our radar, there are so many of them, we can't follow them all. I found her through the facial recognition software. Note that they didn't publish her as an escort, they don't need the Dark Net for that, they can use the regular websites for it. They used the 'Onion web' to put her up for sale, to other escort agencies, to private customers. Sometimes they just leave the pics up to lure potential buyers even if the 'merchandise' was already sold."

"This is not a regular escort service then, these usually don't buy and sell people." Olivia's tone sounds like a question.

"Most probably not, seems like part of a bigger business. She must have come from somewhere, her passport was confiscated by her employers and they issued her a fake ID."

"Sarah had a slight accent and she didn't want to talk to me. The hospital called me. When I asked her if she had where to stay, she mumbled something about a dead roommate named Maria. I managed to get that bit out of her, but the next day the hospital told me she took off," Olivia adds.

"Why sell?" Elliot suddenly says and straightens up.

"Maybe she gave them a hard time. Maybe they thought she'd make them more money that way." John's words make Elliot and Olivia's eyes to cross paths as they look at each other, first to assess that they both think the same, and second because she can't remember a time when they didn't need to look at each other to feel that they're not facing all that human misery alone. She used to raise her eyes to look for him even when he wasn't there.

"How can we contact them? Can you send a message through that site?" Elliot asks after their gaze at each other has verified for him that this was their next step.

"Already have," John updates with an arch smile, "I took the liberty to do that, it can't hurt," he continues, looking at Olivia. "Now I need them to get back to me. Left them an anonymous message. When they get back to me, and they will, what name should I give them?"

"Elliot Taylor, a private customer, could be interested in a variety of girls," Olivia responds. "We don't want them to suspect we're specifically after Maria."

"Ok," Albero verifies. "Will let you know as soon as I hear back."

"Are you sure there's no sign of Sarah, our vic? We're hoping she's still alive," Olivia tries again.

"Not yet, but if she shows up I'll let you know." John Albero rubs his face with his hands and she remembers how hard it was to sit for hours and hours in front of the computer.

"Ok, thanks. We'll talk, John," she smiles at the detective.

As they leave, Elliot calls their Captain to update him and get approval for the potential undercover they'll need. She hears him squirm as he explains why they haven't gotten approval before agreeing on it, and she sighs; nothing changes.

But some things do change. It's not very late in the evening when her hands on the steering wheel ease the maroon squad car back into traffic. "Drop you off at home or somewhere else?" she asks and it's the closest she gets to touching the point of Sandy. She's still getting used to him living in Manhattan and having to decide who drops who off and where; it used to be so obvious.

"No, it's out of our way," Elliot's voice to her right bears the usual low rasp and she looks at him despite herself, and he's right, everything is out of their way - his house, hers, they are. His familiar smell, the strength of his profile, the sharpness of his marine-cut hair, the bulk of his neck and shoulders, everything that is Elliot is there, but she doesn't feel that immediate familiarity, the ordinariness, the belonging it used to signify, and now, like in all the days that sum up to the last few months, she finds herself next to him and still missing him.

"Ok, to the House then," she half-whispers and drives them to the One-Six. The ride is quiet and they arrive there fast, and when Elliot gets a text message and she notices a little smile that taints his untouchable face, she wonders who but his kids could make him smile like that.

Neither stays longer than needed to close off some more tasks, talk to the ADA about some cases, have a briefing with their Captain and colleagues. So it's a bit after eight when she collects her things, declines Elliot's offer to drive her and walks home. She needs the evening air, the cleansing it offers, from these crazy days that had her eyes feast over her partner's body and then witness him and his recent blonde. Come to think of it, it's always blondes. Kathy, Dani, Jo, even Rebecca who wasn't exactly a blonde, but close enough, goddammit; the girl at the bar, and now Sandy. How cliché of him. Not that she knows how many of these he actually slept with, except for his ex-wife, but it'd be poor detective skills to not realize that there's a definite pattern here.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

The next morning brings Elliot in late with a headache and a desperate need for more coffee than usual. She ignores Elliot's situation and his dark blue suit and his light colored shirt and his askew tie as he keeps moving between his desk and the coffee corner. She updates him that Computer Crimes have received a response, but seems like the owners of the site are first trying to establish that Elliot Taylor means business.

"I'll continue communicating with them and when I see they're ready for the next step, I'll call you over here so we can set it together," John Albero updates her again during the morning hours.

She hears from him again when she and Elliot are just about to finish a round of witnesses' questioning for a case Munch and Fin lead. "We're about to finish here, we'll be with you soon," she tells Albero.

When they arrive in the late afternoon hours to Computer Crimes, she realizes that she and Elliot haven't exchanged one word that is not work related all day, not even during the sandwiches they had for lunch while driving from one address to another. Like an old married couple that's heading for a fall, she thinks, they ran out of things to talk about.

"Grab a couple of chairs from over there," Albero welcomes them, "it might take some time."

He then moves to show them the chat he's had with someone named 'I'llfixya'. "How original," Elliot mutters, disgusted by the nickname.

'Mr. Taylor, why don't you try our rentals first, before you buy one?' the recent message reads and Olivia feels like she's about to throw up. "He really does refer to women as cars," she mumbles in an astonished tone. She used to think she'd seen it all. "Tell him we're only interested in buying," she continues.

"Won't work, from my experience, they want to check you up first," Albero explains. "See, here we work under their terms, not ours. If you want them to know you're serious, you need to let them check you up first. They've been probably googling for an Elliot Taylor, and I've made sure they find results that will make them happy. I made up some Google footprint that will prove you're a businessman."

"Ok, tell them we're ready to see their 'for rent'," Elliot interjects.

Albero does, and the reply in the chat appears almost immediately. 'The bar at the Madison, eight o'clock tomorrow, don't be late.'

'Who should I look for?' Albero types.

'You'll know her when you see her', the response on the screen says and Olivia looks up and catches Elliot's eyes that were searching for hers at the exact same time.

'I will be the one with the flower in my hat', Albero tries to purposely joke with 'I'llfixya' and just as he suspects, the answer to this comes back very fast too. 'One more joke and you can go look for back-alley whores.'

"They're not up for jokes, they're a serious business. You'll have to be very careful. This seems to be linked to other activities that we monitor here," Albero says, looking at Elliot.

"You're gonna alert your friends at the FBI?" Olivia asks. "Don't. Give us time, let us find Sarah first and we will gladly ship this over to them ourselves."

"Ok," John Albero's tone is hesitative and Elliot and Olivia's glances cross paths again, both conveying the concern that Albero might not keep this elusive promise, but their eyes speak the agreement to not push him too far and leave it as is.

"Great, thanks, John," Olivia says when she brings her eyes back to Albero, who missed the gazes she and her partner exchanged over his head. "Will keep you updated after the meeting at the Madison, you'll always be in the loop," she promises before they part.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

Elliot leans his backside on the low metal cabinet in their Captain's office, his legs outstretched, crossed at the ankles and his arms are crossed over his chest. She looks over her shoulder and watches him as he speaks, from her spot on the chair in front of Cragen's desk. They're all there, planning the undercover stint Elliot is about to play.

"Liv and Munch will listen in, I'll be wired, it should be over as soon as I get some info we can work with or as soon as I get 'cleared' by my date," he says and for a split second a blonde in a green dress flashes in Olivia's head when the words 'my date' leave Elliot's lips.

"It's not that easy," Cragen replies, "they might follow you, we need to be ready for all scenarios."

"I can go back to one of the undercover apartments, and when the coast is clear, I'll leave," Elliot shrugs as he speaks. "I don't think we need a full undercover like we had with Bushido." His eyes automatically dart over to her, and Olivia returns his gaze, and she hopes her cheeks don't flush from the memory of that night, of his wife, of his injury, of her panic, of their half-naked bodies brushing in the midst of it all.

"I agree, but we don't want anything to be like in the Bushido case," Cragen says in a stiff voice.

They summarize their plan and Olivia follows Elliot and Munch out of Cragen's office. They stop at their desks and as the three of them are putting on their jackets, she ventures to ask "you guys wanna go grab dinner?" without looking at any one of them in particular.

"I'll go," Munch smiles at her.

She looks at Elliot who has just finished re-buttoning the top button of his dress shirt and arrange his tie, and now is putting on his suit jacket. He looks back at her. "I have plans," he mumbles, almost as if he's uncomfortable admitting it out loud. His eyes drop from hers as he picks up his cellphone and keys.

"Sure, see you tomorrow," she mumbles back, feeling stupid despite herself. "C'mon John," she says in a happy voice because she needs to sound unaffected. When they're all ready, the three of them go out of the bullpen together and she doesn't have the benefit of avoiding Elliot till they're out on the precinct steps. The only good thing is that there are always cases to discuss, and the expected undercover op for tomorrow is the topic they can all easily talk about in the few minutes it takes them to go out and part in the cool night air.

"Busy guy," John mutters when they take the first sip off their beer bottles. They walked to the nearby establishment to have dinner and now they are sitting at a small table, waiting for their food.

Olivia looks at him quizzically though she knows exactly who he's referring to. "Your partner," Munch clarifies and his chin juts towards her when he says 'your'.

She just purses her lips, her eyes avoiding his as she looks over to the other tables that have mostly cops after shift seated near them.

"Didn't know he was easily embarrassed," Munch speaks again, his voice sounds somewhat amused, and now she knows he's referring to Elliot's reaction to Sandy's visit. She brings her eyes back to him.

"He has a life after the divorce, I'm glad for him," she says dryly and deep inside she knows that it's bullshit, because while she is glad that Elliot has gotten over the divorce, there are too many layers of feelings inside of her other than happiness.

This time John purses his lips and doesn't reply. A moment later the waitress places their plates in front of them and Olivia picks up her fork. She stops mid-movement, when John mutters "rebound sucks, but he'll get over it."

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

Time passes by too quickly and too slowly the next day, and there's nervousness in the air as they're all thinking of and preparing for the meeting at the Madison. Olivia checks with Albero if there's any new incoming messages from 'I'llfixya' while Elliot and Munch go to TARU to get the gear ready.

"No new messages," Albero updates, "and it's a good sign, they just expect him to be there."

Munch and Olivia are seated at the bar long before eight o'clock, scanning the room as they pretend to be deep in conversation. "Nothing yet," they update each other at first. Then, as the hotel bar area starts filling with people, they're eyeing a few women who have the potential of being Elliot's date, but they all seem clear. At one point, about fifteen minutes before eight, a beautiful blonde in a fancy dress who walks in and waits at a table alone, becomes their prime suspect. _Figures, a blonde_ , Olivia thinks, I'llfixya knows how to treat his clientele. But five minutes later the pretty blonde stands up to greet a smart looking businessman, and whether it's her boyfriend or her client remains open for conjecture, but she's obviously not the woman they're after.

At Eight exactly, Elliot walks into the crowded bar, and Olivia's breath shallows when she sees him. She didn't even know he owned such clothes. And as if Munch can read her thoughts, he looks at her with a lop-sided grin. "And here comes SVU's Poster Boy," he says quietly with a laugh, and she has to join his joke with a smile of her own, though she can feel her pulse thumping in her temples.

Elliot, clad in a fitted pair of black pants, a light colored fitted V-neck shirt and a black jacket, looks around the room and carefully catches hers and John's eyes as they both hint him that they haven't seen his intended date. He sits himself at the far end of the bar, where they can both see him, but since she and Munch sit at the bar pivoted towards each other, she can clearly see Elliot, while Munch mostly has his back turned towards him.

None of the very few women in the room looks like someone who would fit their profile, and after a few moments, Olivia and Munch start to quietly discuss if they were stood up or not, if Elliot is being watched, or if his cover has been blown even before he's had the chance to operate it. The mic is closed from their side while Elliot's is open and they can hear him ordering scotch from the bartender.

Their nervousness increases, but at 8:06, Munch, who faces the entrance, whispers, "I think she's here."

Olivia, still facing the side of the bar Elliot is at, tries to capture his eyes to ensure that he's seen her too. "What does she look like?" she asks Munch quietly, smiling as if they are two friends who are having casual drinks in a bar.

"I'llfixya knew what he was saying," Munch says smiling, "you know her when you see her."

Olivia's eyes snap to John's face, after failing to catch Elliot's eyes, and she captures the appreciative look Munch has on, and when she brings her eyes back to the center of the room, she sees a beautiful, tall, dark haired woman, in a classic little black dress, stopping confidently next to Elliot. She watches as Elliot rises to stand, and both her and Munch can hear the clear sound of the woman's voice through the mic Elliot is wearing, as she says "Is this seat taken?"

"It is now," Elliot replies in a low, raspy voice and a smile spreads across his face. They both sit and he signals the bartender.

"I'll have a…" the woman says and then turns to look at Elliot, "what would you recommend?" she asks him in a husky, teasing tone.

"Their scotch on the rocks is the best," Elliot rasps back, leaning a bit towards her, the smile on his face turns into a smirk.

"I'll have scotch on the rocks," the woman turns towards the bartender again and now Olivia can clearly see her face. She is gorgeous. Her skin is tanned or naturally darker, her complexion is almost olive, with big, green eyes and voluptuous lips.

"She looks like a movie star, doesn't she?" Munch asks Olivia, as he recognizes from the change in her expression that she has finally caught a glimpse of the woman's face.

"She reminds me of Eva Mendes," Olivia replies, almost absent-mindedly.

"Who?" John asks.

"An actress, never mind," she answers impatiently.

"Good choice," Olivia and Munch hear Elliot's voice in the mic, and Olivia watches as he slightly pivots in his seat to look at the woman and she mirrors his movement.

"Thank you, I'm always choosing well, though usually it'd be wine," the woman responds, smiling.

"So why didn't you go for the wine tonight?" Elliot asks and Olivia sees his flirty smirk and knows that he's mirroring that of their movie-star lookalike.

"She either really knows how to play the game, or she's just a woman hitting on Elliot," Munch mumbles as he sips from his glass of wine and Olivia feels her throat choking.

"I'm always open to learning new things," the woman responds to Elliot's question and now she doesn't sound like she's just a woman hitting on him.

"I'm always willing to teach," Elliot rasps into Olivia's and Munch's earphones.

"Yes, you seem like that type," the woman says.

Elliot tilts his head with an appreciative smile and then asks "Really? What type do I seem like?"

The woman lets out a smokey-sounding laugh. "Hmmm…let me see," she says and Olivia sees her tilting her body back as if she's examining Elliot.

"Well, first, you seem like the travelling type," the woman continues. "You travel a lot?" she adds and they know that she's trying to verify Elliot Taylor's identity.

"Correct!" Elliot replies. "What else?"

The bartender places the drink in front of the woman and she takes a sip from the glass.

"She's good. If I didn't know about the website, I couldn't tell that she's a pro. Sarah and Maria confused us too." Olivia whispers to John.

After the short pause, the woman continues her conversation with Elliot. "What else? Hmmm…let me see…you're the powerful type, a no-bullshit attitude both in business, in life, and in…love?"

"Got me there," Elliot retorts, smiling, and Olivia and Munch exchange glances.

"Lastly, I think you're the blonde-loving type," the woman says in a lower voice, as she leans forward towards Elliot and places her hand on his forearm that rests against the bar.

 _Spot on analysis_ , Olivia thinks. The woman must be a pro.

"Actually," she hears Elliot's gravelly voice timbering low inside her ear and she watches as he leans in towards the woman as well, raking his eyes over her, "I prefer brunettes with olive skin."

 _Huh_ , Olivia scoffs inwardly. Really? He likes the darker type? Interesting…though come to think of it, there was that Agent Williams from immigration he was involved with while he was separated from Kathy several years back. The man is all over the goddamn rainbow of colors. But that thought just flashes through her mind when a more serious one dawns on her - Elliot has just made a mistake. Maria, Sarah's roommate, whose picture they found on that Dark Net website and came here to find their way to, had a light complexion and a blonde hair, so why the hell is he diverting from that type? Did that Eva-Mendes-lookalike really got to him or is that part of his game?

The woman laughs and leans backwards, distancing herself from Elliot, although her palm remains on his forearm. "I'm Lori," she says in a more serious tone, then removing her hand from his arm and reaches it to shake Elliot's hand.

Olivia uses the opportunity to talk to John. "She doesn't have an accent, she sounds American."

"I think she is, their rentals are probably locals, even they wouldn't dare selling American citizens," John answers.

"Hey, Lori," Elliot replies in a husky voice, "I'm Elliot Taylor," he takes her hand.

"So, Mr. Taylor," Lori starts in that teasing voice again and Elliot interjects.

"Elliot. You can call me Elliot."

"Elliot," she starts again, with a flirty smile. "You like travelling a lot? Doesn't your wife object?"

Elliot smiles back and uses the same teasing tone when he replies. "I'm divorced, and I like the change in scenery, but when I come home I like to have a steady companion at my disposal." Elliot gets them closer to the topic that brought them there.

"I like it when a man says exactly what's on his mind," Lori replies and takes another sip from her glass. "And what is it that you're looking for in a steady companion?"

"Intelligence, conversation, loyalty, a tendency to spoil me rotten," Elliot speaks and the flirty smirk he has on widens, as he's still playing the game.

"You're quite particular in what you like," Lori replies and it's obvious that she tries to gauge if he fits the business she represents.

"True. I don't have patience or time to waste, which is why I prefer to teach my companion what it is that I like only once and then know things will always be tended to as I expect."

The woman nods. "I understand. That does require permanence and full dedication," she then says and Olivia and John look at each other as they hear it over the mic, because this sounds like an assertion that Elliot's request of 'buying' has just been verified by her. Then, the woman suddenly rises from her seat. "It was a pleasure, Elliot Taylor. I'm sure we'll meet again," she says as she reaches her hand to him and he shakes it.

She turns around and leaves the bar, passing by Olivia and Munch on her way out.

Elliot remains in his seat and gulps down the rest of his drink. He looks over at Olivia and their eyes meet. She removes her eyes from him and scans the room, while Munch does the same. It doesn't seem like Elliot is being watched by anyone and so Olivia brings her eyes back to him and he gets her hint immediately. He places a bill on the counter and stands up, looking around him before he leaves for the door.

Munch and Olivia remain on their seats, watching to see if anyone leaves right after Elliot. Nobody does and Olivia opens her mic. "Coast is clear," she tells Elliot and the backup that waits outside, "meet you at the House."

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

"Nothing came in yet," she updates her colleagues and their Captain, as she places back the phone receiver. "Albero says that he'll keep us posted as soon as a message from I'llfixya comes in."

Olivia is sitting at her desk, and looks at Munch and Cragen who lean against Munch's desk, and then at Elliot, who leans against her desk, close to her, still wearing his divorced-man-on-the-hunt clothes. She too is wearing a dress, a purple fitted dress that reaches just above her knees, with a V-cut cleavage that exposes some, but leaves enough covered for imagination.

They met five minutes ago, returning from the Madison bar, and updated their Captain.

"Good job there, Stabler," Munch quips. "It was hard to know at first if she were real, or just trying to pick you up."

Elliot has what Olivia interprets as a shy smirk on, as he bows his head, as if he's admitting to what John has said.

"What about Lori's detail?" Elliot then asks. They had someone follow Lori after she left the Madison.

"I don't have enough manpower or budget to leave it on for much longer. But if anything comes up, I'll let you know."

Everyone looks at each other before Cragen speaks again. "Well, detectives, we'll meet here in the morning. If no word yet till then, go to Olivia's friend at Computer Crimes and push for a response. Good night," Cragen says.

"I have my car," Elliot turns to Olivia, when Munch and Cragen start dispersing. "Want me to drop you off?"

"Yeah," she replies, chewing on her bottom lip, before she stands up and collects her purse.

As they walk side by side on the way to his car, both dressed up, she thinks about the undercover stints or the few nights out they've had, usually at the Police ball, which had them together in something other than work clothes, and about how she always loved to see him looking at her with appreciation.

"So…how long have you been seeing Sandy?" she finally dares to ask as Elliot drives to her neighborhood.

"Not long," he replies after a beat and he throws a look at her and quickly returns it to the front windshield.

She just nods her head and he probably sees it from the corner of his eye, because he suddenly adds "it's nothing too serious, just…"

She turns her head and looks at him, waiting for him to finish the sentence. When he doesn't, she speaks. "Doesn't seem like she thinks so. I mean, she came by to visit you at work."

Now it's Elliot's turn to just nod his head slightly, pursing his lips, as if he's looking for the right words. When he doesn't answer she turns her gaze back to the windshield too.

"What about you? Are you seeing anybody?" he suddenly asks and it makes her snap her head in his direction again.

"Not at the moment," she replies, realizing that it's the first time since he's notified her about his divorce that they're talking about their love lives. It used to be him questioning her about hers, when he was still safely married, and even then, she used to feel that he was doing it only to comfort himself that there was nothing out there, that it was all shit. He's never considered her dating seriously, as if he knew it was all doomed for failure, and she hated that he was right each time. It was only when he found out about the more serious men in her life, like Kurt or Dean Porter, that he suddenly dropped the amused attitude and started acting differently. Jealous and possessive. She was mad at him then, but more because it bothered her that he tried to sabotage her chances for a relationship while he had a wife and a family to come home to and she had nothing. And more than that, she was really mad at herself for secretly enjoying his jealousy.

He doesn't say anything and they drive quietly till they reach her building. "Good night, El," she says and he finally looks at her.

"Good night, Liv," he responds and she climbs out of the car, thinking about the questions she didn't ask, about the ones she wished and feared he would ask, and about the point that she wishes she could ban from her mind – is he going home alone tonight?

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

 ** _Her back aches from the unnatural posture and she pushes forward and Elliot straightens up with her, his pelvis pushes her legs apart to accommodate the width of his body. Her ass is partly seated on the desk and her lower half is compressed against his and she can feel him hard against her through his jeans and her pants. They're grinding against each other while they're devouring one another. Elliot's right hand rakes over her shoulder, up to her neck and cheek and then down over her neck and clavicle, stopping at her right breast. He's cupping it and kneading it through her shirt, and she moans into his mouth. Her nipples are erect, and so is every part of her that has nerves in it. Her body is fully awaken to Elliot's touch and taste._**


	3. Chapter 3

When they hear nothing from Albero the next day, they decide to ride there, to sit with him and message I'llfixya together. As soon as they enter the room Albero shares with other Computer Crimes detectives, they see him hanging up a call. "Olivia, Elliot," he greets them cheerfully. "I got something for you, was just trying to call you."

"A message?" Olivia asks and she and Elliot each stand next to Albero and slightly bend to look into his screen.

"Here it is," he says as he opens the window and they read I'llfixya's message.

'You've made a good impression, Mr. Taylor. Before any proceedings take place, I need to know that you're serious,' the message reads.

Albero looks over both his shoulders, first at Olivia and then at Elliot. "We're serious, right?" he asks.

"We are," Elliot responds. "Type."

John Albero's eyebrows rise at this commanding tone, but Elliot and Olivia can't see it, because he's turned his face back to the screen. 'Very serious,' he types. 'How do I prove it?'

'$,' the response shows on the screen.

'coins?' Albero types.

'5K of them,' I'llfixya types back.

'That's a lot to give before receiving any goods,' Albero types again.

The three of them are quiet and Olivia exchanges glances with Elliot, and she can see the twitch in his jaw, as they wait for the response.

'It's 5% of the actual cost and you can take it or leave it,' the reply comes in.

"How do we know they're not going to disappear as soon as we pay?" Olivia asks.

"Sounds like a setup," Elliot mumbles as he straightens up.

Albero turns in his seat. "We don't know for sure, but at the end of the day most of them want real cash," Albero says. "These people are in it for real money. 5K isn't worth their trouble although coins' exchange rate is one of the steepest in the world. I think they just want to verify that you're serious."

Elliot and Olivia look at each other, when suddenly Elliot juts his chin towards the computer screen. "What does he say?" he asks and the three of them return to look at the screen.

'Mr. Taylor, take it or leave it,' Olivia reads out loud the text on the screen.

'How do I know it's not a set up? When do I get to choose the goods?' Albero types a response.

'You'll get a link where you can see our offerings, but it will be fully activated only after we receive the money,' the reply soon appears on the screen.

"I'm calling Cragen, we need to clear this with him first," Olivia says and looks at Elliot.

He nods his head and Olivia walks out of the room, dialing through her cellphone.

"I think you guys need to involve the Feds. They are more experienced in this than you are," Albero says as he shifts in his seat to look at Elliot, who remained standing.

"We'll see what our Captain says. The Feds have more experience but also more tendency to focus on the macro and forget about the micro, and for us the micro counts as well. Sarah, Maria – the Feds don't care about them. We do," Elliot replies.

John Albero tilts his head and his face wears a skeptic expression. That worries Elliot, who immediately adds "let us decide when to involve them, ok? We told you we would, but we need to continue down this route first. We're getting there."

"I won't make a call, but I have to update my Captain too," Albero replies.

Elliot opens his mouth to speak but then Olivia walks back in. "Cap clears this," she updates. "How do we make the payment?"

"Just give us a few more days," Elliot tells Albero, continuing their conversation.

Albero bites the inner side of his lower lip before he nods in consent and turns towards the computer.

'Ok,' he types Elliot Taylor's reply to I'llfixya. 'Send the link, and remember that I'm a serious businessman too.'

'Good. That's the only kind we do business with,' comes in the response and a moment later a link is shown in the text box.

When Albero clicks the link a screen opens that looks like a sub-section of the website where Albero originally found Maria's picture. There are four pictures there, of faces only. One of them is Maria's. Two others are of girls that look sixteen at the most. And another one is of a young woman. Each picture has a short description including a first name and some details. Maria's description appears as 'Maria, 19, sassy, intelligent and devoted.' The two young girls appear with first names, no ages, and a description that reads 'inexperienced and willing to learn.'

Olivia tries to push in the sickness she feels creeping up her stomach, and Elliot places his hands on his hips, bows his head down and breathes in, in an attempt to do the same.

At the bottom of the page there's a message – 'for full pictures, details or more exotic offerings, click this link'. When Albero tries to click it, an error message appears 'link not activated'. He turns to look at the detectives who stand by his sides. "This should lure potential customers to pay," he says.

"Exotic offerings. Is this another way to say children?" Olivia mutters.

"Probably," Elliot mumbles back. "If they have Maria's picture on here and she's dead, does this mean the other three are also dead? Does it mean that these are just random pictures they found and that's their way of getting idiots to pay?" He adds and then looking at Albero as he continues. "We'll get the Feds involved, Albero, but first we need to check this. A few more days, ok?" he repeats.

"Ok," Albero replies. "The payment is done using a virtual wallet, he'll send the link now, watch," he adds.

Another message, containing a link appears. "The NYPD has an encoded virtual wallet too, so we can transfer five thousand coins from there to I'llfixya's account," Albero explains and with few simple steps transfers the coins.

"No wonder their business is booming. It's so damn easy," Elliot mutters.

"They rely too much on the anonymity here, and sometimes they forget it's a software after all. A very complex one, but still, a software, and it can eventually be hacked. They're too complacent and that's when we catch them," Albero says.

"And have you…?" Olivia starts to ask but Albero interjects with a smile.

"Of course I have, but these guys know what they're doing. I didn't manage to hack through."

As soon as he finishes the sentence, a message appears again. 'Payment received, your link is activated.'

Olivia can feel her heart beating faster, as now they are a step closer to finding more about what's behind Maria's picture. "Let's try Maria's pic's first," she requests.

Albero clicks on the picture but another error message appears: 'Unavailable.'

"What the fuck…," Elliot spews. "Click the others."

Albero does and out of the four pictures that appeared in the link I'llfixya sent, only two open. One is of a young girl and another of the other young woman. Both contain what can only be described as soft porn pictures of them, posing naked or in sexy garments.

"This one can't be over sixteen," Olivia calls and her voice is sharp with anger.

"Click that link," Elliot tells Albero and points to a link at the bottom of the webpage that has 'Details' on it.

Albero clicks on the Details link in the young girl's webpage. Another screen opens that provides details of her height, weight, bust and hips size, and age. The girl is 15. Another detail appears there. Origin: Ukraine.

"Sons of bitches," Elliot hisses as they read this.

Albero opens the Details page for the other woman, who seems to be 20 years old. The details show that they were almost right. She is 18 and her origin is Kazakhstan.

"So they bring here young girls from the former USSR and sell them," Olivia declares and asks at the same time, and despite everything she's seen in all her years in SVU, she still can't grasp at how these girls are being sold online, as if they were livestock.

"Ask him why Maria and the other girl are unavailable," Olivia asks Albero.

He types the question in the message box with I'llfixya.

'Another customer was faster than you,' the reply comes in.

'I wanted the one named Maria,' Albero types.

'Check out our other offerings,' I'llfixya's response shows.

Albero turns and looks at the detectives. "Do you want to insist on Maria? He's not going to provide any more details about her."

"And it will make him suspicious if we insist," Elliot adds pensively.

"Let's try the exotic offerings link," Albero says. "But don't expect too much, usually they only post two-three more pictures just to lure you further in and maybe pay more. Or, they will offer you 'custom made' goods."

"Custom made?" Olivia asks in disbelief.

"They'll want to know what you're looking for exactly and they'll try 'ordering' someone who answers your description. Human trafficking in East European countries is an industry."

Elliot sighs, remembering the case that sent him all the way to the Czech Republic and what he learned there. "Open the 'specials menu'," he asks Albero.

Albero navigates back to the original link and clicks that link, that before was unavailable. Now it opens and, as he predicted, contains just two more pictures. One is of a very young girl, couldn't be over twelve, and the other is of a young woman. The description line under her name reads 'requires strict taming.'

When Albero tries to click on the pictures, the same error message, 'link not activated', comes up again.

"Goddamn them!" Elliot spits again. "What is this shit? Write to him that we want the details and that he's not getting a cent for it!"

Albero types in as requested and a message appears in reply: 'Seen something you like? The younger the better?'

As Albero types that they want the details of the older girl, whose name is Vera, Elliot raises his eyes off the screen and looks over at Olivia, who stands on Albero's other side and at the same moment has looked over at Elliot. Their glances meet and she can clearly see the twitch of his jaw muscle. She knows exactly what he feels.

'Thought you weren't into blondes,' Albero reads out loud the new reply from I'llfixya and draws the detectives' attention back to the screen. "What does he mean?" he asks and looks first at Elliot and then at Olivia.

Olivia looks over at Elliot and watches as his eyes skim the text line before he huffs a breath and pinches the corners of his eyes with his forefinger and thumb.

"What?" Albero asks again.

"Just something Elliot told Lori, the woman I'llfixya sent last night," Olivia fills him in.

"Maria is a blonde, and that Vera is definitely blonde," Albero indicates. "What should I tell him?"

Olivia still looks at Elliot, whose eyes are suddenly glued to the screen, as if he avoids looking back at her, knowing that he's screwed up that part last night. He must feel her eyes on him because the twitch in his jaw intensifies.

"Just tell him that we like either her or Maria and that if he can't provide either or someone very much like them, then we're done," Elliot's voice is rigid and he speaks without removing his eyes from the screen.

Albero types and Olivia shifts her gaze back to the screen and from the corner of her eyes she can see Elliot somewhat relaxing, as if her eyes felt heavy on him before.

After a short delay, a reply appears on the screen. 'Try clicking the picture now.'

Albero clicks Vera's picture and the details appear – her age, 20, her height, weight and the blunt nudity pictures. Another detail appears: 'needs a strong and determined master.'

"Oh, God," Olivia expels and the three of them exchange looks.

"Sarah is definitely in trouble, but we need to get to all of them. Those little girls…," Olivia starts and stops. "What do you usually do with what you find on the Dark Net?" she asks Albero.

"We try to identify locations and real identities, but the Feds are in charge of all the rest. I told Stabler I think it's time to involve them," Albero replies. "They have the full picture, and…they have the resources," Albero adds, looking at her and then quickly glancing to the other side, at Elliot.

"Write that we want Vera," Elliot orders sternly, ignoring John's advice, who grits his teeth and then types.

'We'll need the rest in one payment. Cash,' comes in I'llfixya's reply.

'Ok. When and where do I get her?' Albero writes.

'Tomorrow night too soon?' A reply appears.

The three of them exchange glances again as Albero types 'Tomorrow's perfect. Where?'

'Exact details will be sent later. Prepare the cash. Goodbye,' appears the message.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

"These people feel so safe in that net that they don't even bother to hide the victims' faces and hardly their own identity. It's as if everything is legitimate there. There are hitmen openly publishing their services on there. It's a nightmare to follow everything that happens there," Olivia says, sitting on the edge of her desk in the SVU bullpen, as she and Elliot fill in their Captain and colleagues about their morning work with Albero.

"So we're waiting for the meeting place and time now?" Cragen verifies.

"Yep," Elliot replies, entwining his fingers and stretching his arms in front of him, as he leans back in his chair, his body reclined, almost lying back.

Olivia finds that her gaze is fixed on him, on his white dress-shirt and blue tie that stretches across his chest and abs. And she has a moment to hate herself for sinking this low again in the middle of a case, before Cragen's voice startles her.

"Ok, keep me updated when you hear from Albero," he sums up their briefing and then turns to go back into his office.

Olivia looks at her Captain's retreating back, and then bends her head down to gather herself before returning to her own seat, across from Elliot. When she's seated, she rubs her neck, twisting it slightly to release the tension that's been building there forever.

His eyes are intent on her and she can feel his gaze on her all of a sudden. She straightens in her seat and returns his gaze. "What?" she asks.

"Nothing," he shakes his head once and then reaches for some papers on his desk.

She could swear that it's not nothing.

"Do you think he'll make some calls?" Elliot asks and she raises her eyes to look at him, confused at his question. "Your friend, Albero," he then adds.

"No. He knows we're not sitting on our asses and that we're trying to get these guys. He'll update his Captain, but this is just one website, they have their hands full monitoring a million others, some worse."

Elliot looks at her and in his eyes she reads frustration, exhaustion, determination and she wonders if he's really meant to ask her only about Albero, or was there something else. Her wondering time doesn't last long, because then Elliot receives a phone call. He looks at the caller ID and silences the ring. She brings her eyes back to her computer screen, trying to focus on another email reminder about the conference she has to attend soon. A minute later the phone rings again and from her peripheral view she can see Elliot rubbing his chin.

"Everything ok?" she dares asking without raising her eyes from the computer screen in front of her.

"Yeah," he dryly replies as he presses the volume button again, silencing the ring without hanging up on the caller.

She suspects that the caller is Sandy, who should probably take a crash course with Kathy about how to manage a relationship with a SVU detective. Lesson number one – never call in the middle of a workday, unless something urgent happens. Lesson number two – Elliot doesn't deal well with cute or romantic, so don't try to be either, definitely not in the middle of a workday. Lesson number three – you'll need a lot of mileage with Elliot to be allowed such interruptions. Poor woman, Olivia thinks. And then she wonders, what's in it for him? Another brave attempt to prove himself that he can have a relationship with a normal woman? Or is it just about physical attraction? Sex? What?

It's pointless, she thinks as she rises from her chair and heads towards the bathrooms to wash her face and get her head together. His love life, sex life, whatever, are none of her concern. He's Elliot, he's her partner, and that's all. But it keeps gnawing at her. What is so special about this woman, that she's earned the right to be with him, to touch him?

A woman they questioned once told Elliot that he looked like the missionary position type of guy. And now she wonders, not for the first time, if that's true, and how he is in bed, is he quiet after years of marriage and kids, is he loud, does he say things like "you like that?" and "I want you to come for me" or "I want to come inside you"? Olivia sprays cold water on her face. With her eyes closed and hidden behind her wet palms she has to shoo away the visuals that creep into her head.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

"Stay online while you visit the Madison. Tonight at 23:00. You'll get the details when you're there. Bring the cash. $95K, not a cent less."

Olivia, Elliot and Cragen are attentively listening to the man on the other side of the phone line as he reads them this text.

"Albero, can you read this again?" Olivia asks when all three of them raise their heads and gaze at each other.

On the other side of the line Albero reads I'llfixya's message once again.

"Thank you," Cragen says, "let us know if anything else comes up. If we don't hear from you, we'll be at the Madison at 10pm. Keep Benson updated with every change."

"We need to alert the Feds," Cragen tells his detectives when they hang up the call with Albero, "but let's see what we find out tonight before we do," he quickly adds when he sees the reaction on their faces.

They remain seated and plan the night's operation in which they will hopefully put their hands on part of this human trafficking organization, find Sarah and maybe the others too.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

Everything is ready. They have four cops spread around the hotel, undercover. One in the lobby, one at the hotel's bar, two as maintenance workers that roam the various floors, Munch who sits in the hotel's security control room, Fin who goes over the guests' list and Olivia and Cragen who have opened a War Room in room 504 and are in direct contact with Albero, who is at his desk in Computer Crimes. Elliot is supposed to perform the money drop-off and the 'merchandise' pick-up at 11pm, and they're all waiting there for the instructions to come in and for the raid to begin.

At 10:30pm, when Elliot arrives to the hotel and sits at the bar, they still hear nothing from I'llfixya. Elliot, in the meantime, looks intently at his phone's screen, feigning to be surfing while actually waiting for Albero to contact him, because Albero is online and connected to the website.

At a few minutes past 10:30, a message appears on Albero's screen and two seconds later on the laptop Olivia and Cragen gaze into in room 504 and on the cellphone Elliot is holding. "Go to the 7th floor, leave the bag against the door in room 703 and walk away. When I verify that everything is in there, I'll send you the room number where your new purchase awaits."

Elliot makes his way to the elevators and the cups at the bar and at the lobby are all watching to see if anyone is actively following him now.

Elliot approaches room 703, and on his way he passes by Olivia, who is hanging over Cragen's arm, laughing quietly and whispering to each other, as they pretend to be a flirty drunk couple that make their way slowly down the hallway. They disappear in one of the nearby rooms, having a master key and a list of all vacant rooms provided to them in advance by the hotel manager. Elliot stops in front of room 703, looks around him and then leans the bag he holds against the door. He then walks back towards the elevators. The corridor is a semi-circle and he loses sight with the door of room 703.

Elliot is at the 7th floor's elevators foyer, when Albero sends him and the others the final detail. "Room 232." Elliot takes a few steps back towards room 703 and sees that the bag is gone. Whoever was in that room brought the bag in and saw the cash inside.

Elliot then takes the elevator to the 2nd floor. Cragen and Olivia walk out of the room they were in and follow him there, while one of the undercover cops disguised as a maintenance guy steps out of the elevator and starts roaming the 7th floor, waiting to see if anyone comes out of room 703.

At 10:45pm Elliot knocks on the door of room 232. Olivia and Cragen are hiding in the staircase down the hall. When he knocks again they step into the corridor and watch him. When no reply comes, Elliot tries the doorknob. The door is not locked and he carefully walks in. The room is lit. Cragen and Olivia walk towards the room.

"Hello?" Elliot calls into the room from the entrance.

When no response is heard he takes another step in. Cragen and Olivia now stop outside the door. Olivia's hand is inside her purse, holding her Glock, Cragen reaches into his coat and wraps his fingers around his gun that is hidden in an inner pocket.

Elliot takes another step and now he's well inside the room. Cragen and Olivia decide to drop the act and follow him. They're at the entrance when they hear a door loudly banging and voices shouting "FBI, stop where you are and put your hands over your head. Now!" They manage to look at each other baffled before they walk into the room and find Elliot raising his hands and three FBI agents that have just stormed out of the bathroom door pointing their guns at him.

Cragen pulls out his badge, waves it and yells "NYPD. Stop!" right when one of the agents points his gun at him and at Olivia, who has retrieved her Glock from her purse.

Elliot stands in the middle of all those pointed guns and his voice is clear when he says "Congratulations, Lori, for catching NYPD's SVU detective."

Only then Olivia moves her eyes between the three FBI agents' faces and discovers Eva-Mendez-lookalike among them.

Everyone lowers their guns and Elliot drops his arms to his sides, turning around to look at his Captain and at Olivia, who still stand in the doorway.

"What the hell is SVU doing here?" Lori asks as she moves into the center of the room, closer to Elliot. Her hair is pulled up into a ponytail and with the FBI bullet-proof vest and the fact that she's not wearing any makeup Olivia can see why she missed that it was her in the midst of the confusion. Olivia has a brief nanosecond to register the fact that Lori still looks like Eva Mendez. She's gorgeous.

"Trying to find a missing rape vic," Elliot replies, turning back to face Lori and the other two agents who have moved into the room as well. "Nice to see our undercovers were so productive," he adds dryly.

"And we both fell for it," Lori replies, her gaze locks with Elliot's. "I'm guessing your name is not Elliot Taylor?" she adds.

"Elliot Stabler," he replies, his eyes intent on her.

"Lori Garcia," Lori says, her eyes return his gaze. "These are agents Smith and Hernandez," she adds, pointing at the two men who stand somewhat behind her.

Cragen moves into the middle of the room. "I'm Captain Donald Cragen and this is Detective Olivia Benson," he says.

Lori breaks her gaze from Elliot's and looks at Cragen and Olivia and nods once. She then grabs the radio that is attached to her vest and notifies over it "all units, disperse, false alarm."

Cragen does the same and notifies his people over the radio that they've stumbled upon the Feds. "Do you really use such shallow info to catch suspects of human trafficking?" he then bluntly addresses the three FBI agents.

"You know how many people we caught with 'such shallow info'?" the one named Hernandez retorts.

"It's the first time we've hit another law enforcement unit," Lori adds, looking at Cragen. "We don't always find who we think we'll find, but we always progress at least one step up towards the snake's head."

"Let us know when you find it and we'll help you crash it," Elliot responds and Lori turns her eyes to him. Olivia watches as their gazes lock on each other again.

"So what's next?" Olivia asks, addressing Cragen and Elliot, trying to get the route back to their case and as a side effect to break that gaze between Elliot and Lori. It makes her stomach clench.

Before either have time to respond, Lori speaks to Elliot again. "Who's your vic?"

"The names we have are Sarah and Maria, but they're probably fake," Elliot replies. "Sarah is our vic, she disappeared. Maria was her roommate. She was murdered about 6 months ago and her picture appeared on the Dark Net, so we were hoping to get to Sarah too, they must have worked for the same organization. I assume your unit stands behind 'I'llfixya'?"

"Just recently," Lori says without removing her eyes from his, though while he was speaking people were coming and going out of the hotel room – the two agents stepped out, Munch and Fin came in – but that didn't break Lori and Elliot's eye contact. Olivia's eyes are intent on them despite the people that move between them and break her line of sight for a few seconds. "We've been monitoring his site for some time and last month we got a hold of him, he gave us nothing so far, so we decided to continue keeping what he had there for awhile, so that his operators wouldn't know we caught him. They don't know each other really, so to them as long as the site is alive and all his correspondence with them keeps going, he's still around. They don't know that now we stand behind everything I'llfixya used to do. But they're very elusive. He can't give us much because he doesn't know where they are or who they are. They're very careful. We're following the money exchanges and sooner or later they'll make a mistake and we'll get them. In the meantime, we're luring a few more scumbags that try to buy women and we arrest them," Lori adds. "We believe that Human Trafficking is only a fraction of that business, so we have to keep going."

"So you don't know what happened to the women he's put up for sale?" Cragen asks and makes Lori tear her eyes from Elliot's.

"No, unfortunately. Finding them will be a bonus, and we'll make sure to bring the relevant PDs into the loop, but right now we're focusing on the bigger target," she replies.

"A bonus?" Olivia asks, anger seeping into her voice as she looks at Lori. "For us there is nothing bigger than finding Sarah and the other women on that site, some of them were very young."

"I know, but do you know how many are out there? You want to save one or two or ten, but if we catch the heads of this operation, we'll save hundreds, thousands maybe," Lori replies emphatically but Olivia resents it and dismisses it as a patronizing tone that hides behind her words and voice.

"Believe me, we know how many are out there," Olivia starts, but Elliot then interjects.

"Saving one is just as important," Elliot chimes in and Lori brings her eyes to him.

"Ok, we can continue this interesting discussion later on," Cragen cuts in, aiming to stop this conversation before it turns into an argument. "Let's talk tomorrow, Agent Garcia, and decide where we go from here and how we make sure to be in synch," he concludes and Olivia makes note to self that it took almost half her Captain's speech to break off the magnet that glued Lori's and Elliot's gazes to each other. The knot in her stomach tightens.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

 ** _Their breathing is loud and hard and Elliot releases her mouth only to smooth his lips over her jaw, down to her neck and throat, causing her to lean back towards the wall behind her. She uses the opportunity to slide her hands into the back of his pullover and touch his warm skin and the firm muscles that flex and tense with his movements. He's devouring her with his hands and caressing her with his lips._**

 ** _She knows what she's doing when her hands reach for his belt and zipper, undoing them along with the button of his jeans. She knows, but she doesn't care. Elliot pulls himself back for a short moment and takes his shirt off, and she has him shirtless right there in her arms._**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** This chapter is dedicated to the guest reviewer that re-read all my other fics while waiting for this one to update and left a review on each and every one of them! Thank you, Guest!

 **Chapter 4:**

On the way back to the precinct, she rides with Elliot and Cragen. "She's good," Elliot comments, "fooled us all. None of us suspected she was undercover."

"She didn't suspect you weren't Elliot Taylor either," Cragen indicates.

"Guess we have that in common," Elliot replies and Olivia feels small and petty for hating him for the connection he draws between himself and the Eva-Mendez-lookalike agent.

"We have to figure out our next moves. How do we find Sarah?" she asks, bringing them back to their case yet again.

"Since Maria is still our only clue and she's connected to the same perps that Garcia and her friends are trying to track down, we need to continue in that route and cooperate with them till we find out more," Cragen replies, and although Olivia knows he's right, for a moment something inside of her rebels and withers at the thought that Lori will continue to be involved. It's stupid and inappropriate and even pathetic, she knows, because Elliot is dating someone else and even if he wasn't, it's none of her fucking business anyway, but she can't get over the gut feeling that something was forming in that hotel room between him and Garcia, and that she hates the way it makes her feel physically sick.

"I need to call Albero, he's waiting for my update," she says in order to take her mind off Elliot and Lori and Sandy and whoever, and because she wants to do her job right without letting it all get to her.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

"Bad news," Olivia says as she hangs up the call with Albero. They're all sitting in the One Six bullpen, after arriving there a few minutes earlier. She's at her desk and Elliot is at his, his feet up on the desk and he's leaning all the way back in his chair. She's so used to it, but with the way she's been recently, his body stretching like that, almost lying down, is something she can't ignore.

"What?" Elliot asks, as he straightens up in his seat.

She doesn't look at anyone in particular when she replies. "Albero didn't know it himself, but turns out that when he didn't force us to involve the Feds, he was getting himself into trouble. He just heard about our encounter with them from his boss. Turns out his Captain assigned another Computer Crimes detective to work with Lori on this site. If Albero had updated his Captain or alerted the Feds, like he should have, he would have known about it and wouldn't step on anyone's toes, and he would have prevented the nice little encounter we had at the hotel tonight. Anyway, now his Captain is furious about him working with us without updating anyone. We're not gonna get much from him next time we need him, that's for sure," Olivia concludes.

Olivia then turns her eyes to Elliot. He rubs his left palm over his chin and mouth, hesitating before replying. "He'll be fine. We'll take it on us if needed. Now that it's all clear, we can work directly with the relevant Computer Crimes detective and Lori on this. We don't need to do it under the radar anymore."

"I didn't hear _Garcia_ saying that she'll work with us on that. I did hear her say that they're after the snake's head and that if they come across a victim they will ship her to the nearest Police station," Olivia retorts. She can't hide her irritation from the casual way Elliot's dismissed Albero's getting into trouble over helping them and about how keen he suddenly seems to work with the Feds.

"I think she'll cooperate," Elliot replies calmly and it rakes her even more.

"How are you so sure about it? Over your two minutes' acquaintance with her?"

"Yes," Elliot says and his confidence infuriates her even more.

"Ok, great," she replies impatiently.

Soon after, everybody leaves and Olivia goes home, where a warm shower will not do away the anger, frustration and loneliness she's nurturing.

The next morning their Captain announces that Lori and Agent Smith will arrive soon to talk about their next steps. "They're not keen to work with us on this, I don't have any illusions on that. The Feds want to control their case just as always," he tells his detectives, "but we're going to get the best out of this for our case, so everyone, be on your best behavior," he sends a warning glance across his desk, at every single one of them.

Olivia and Elliot exit their Captain's room five minutes later and head to their joint desks. "I don't like this," she expels, slumping into her seat.

"Don't start," he says, sitting down, not looking directly at her but at the lab reports on his desk.

She raises her eyes and sticks a narrow gaze at him. He doesn't look up so she almost hisses back. "Since when do you like working with the Feds? Last I recall, you kept either fighting with them or getting shot by them," she references to Dana Lewis.

Elliot finally raises his eyes to meet hers. "They seem keen to get it done right, just like we do." As soon as he finishes his sentence, she notices how his irises widen while his gaze is drawn to something behind her. She turns back and sees Agents Garcia and Smith enter through the doors and walk towards them.

Lori is in a black suit pants and a soft grey blouse, her hair tied up in a beautiful mass with a clip. "Stabler, Benson," she greets them as she stops by their desks with Smith, who only nods his head.

Elliot rises to stand and smiles at them. "We were waiting for you," he says and Olivia has to swallow the lump in her throat.

"Is your Captain ready?" Lori asks, warmly smiling back at Elliot.

"Follow me," Elliot replies and without waiting for Olivia, he starts marching towards their Captain's office, followed by the two FBI agents and at last by his partner too, who involuntarily joins the rest and is the last to enter Cragen's office and close the door behind her.

After a short briefing from both sides, Cragen pretty much suggests that Elliot will run the case facing Lori, who's in charge from the FBI side, and Olivia doesn't even argue although she's been assigned to the case first. Elliot is more senior and when she sees the little smile of agreement that passes between him and Lori, she's too busy trying to overcome the nausea that takes over her.

They all remain in the room to discuss a few more actions and agree on the mode of work between the teams, and then Lori and her partner, Smith, take leave. Elliot sees them to the elevator, while Olivia stays in the room with her Captain.

"What's up, Benson?" Cragen asks in a tone that indicates that he's noticed her state.

"I don't like this," she bluntly says. "I don't see how they'll give us any freedom to act. We'll have to report every single move we make, while they'll do whatever the hell they want and keep us updated only when it suits them."

"This is how it works, Olivia, we got their agreement to work on this together, and that's more than we usually get. The details of how you work it out is in the hands of your partner and Garcia. They'll have to get along and ensure the best mode of work exists between all of us."

"Great," she mumbles just as Elliot walks back into the room.

"They give a pretty good impression," he says when he closes the door behind him and Olivia can't believe how simple it is to make him complacent with working with the Feds, all you have to do is throw in a gorgeous agent. How shallow.

"They seem to know their business alright," the Captain agrees and she feels petty. "Ok, so you know your next steps. We have other things to handle, and having them working some of this case frees up your time to take on more cases," he continues. "Olivia, what about the Dorsey case? And the Nadiri case?"

They move on to review the other casefiles and she's glad they have something to work on together that is not related to what turned out to be a federal case.

A few days go by in which Cragen's assumption that they have freed up some time to take on more cases, proves to be wrong. They're overloaded, running between court, investigating witnesses, suspects and keeping in touch with Lori and her team. After three days of pushing for info and getting vague answers from Lori, even Elliot gets a bit frustrated.

She's glad. She told him so. She won't tell him this now, but she definitely told him so. She can't wait for the inevitable explosion that will ensue. She's seen him burst before, she knows the early signs. He's getting there.

At around 9pm, they're both still at their desks. She's tired and needs a shower. Elliot does too. For three days they've worked for thirteen or fourteen hours a day, so much for 'some bandwidth to take on more cases'. Her hair is greasy, she's pretty sure her shirt stinks and her makeup is long gone, leaving remnants that instead of helping her looks, actually make her seem older and more faded. Olivia rubs her palms over her face, fantasizing about the hot shower and comfortable bed that awaits her at home, that she'll be able to enjoy for a few hours before she has to be back at work.

Munch and Fin are not having it easy either. In fact, they're still in one of the Interrogation rooms and their Captain is listening in with one of the ADAs as they're working on a different case.

In the piercing fluorescent lights, Olivia removes her palms from her face and watches her tired partner as he organizes the mess on his desk in a loosely arranged pile. He's about to take off too, probably going to use the relatively early hour to meet up with his Sandy. Not that she knows anything about his plans, today or the days before, but he looks so intent to leave now, that she has a pretty good idea of why.

She's about to ask him to drop her off at home first, when footsteps interrupt the quiet bullpen.

Agent Lori Garcia, looking at 9pm as fresh as she's probably looked at 9am, is strutting towards them in jeans and oversized cream-colored V-neck sweater, like a model out of a Vogue magazine. Her hair is loosely tied in a sweet looking ponytail and her Eva Mendes face is glowing. Olivia feels at least fifteen years older than she really is when she glances at her.

Elliot stands up and takes a few steps towards Lori, who stops to stand next to Olivia's side of the desk. "What a surprise," he calls, and Olivia hears a mixture of annoyance and pleasure in his voice.

"I know, I know," Lori starts apologetically, bowing her head slightly and places her palms in front of her to signal him that he can stop the reprieve. "You've been waiting to hear more from me, but I really didn't have much till this evening. Is your Captain here?"

"He's busy, what is it?" the irritated part in Elliot's voice is almost completely gone at the sound of her apology and the expectation of news.

"Well, he'll have to approve this first, but…,"Lori drags the words and Olivia looks at them both from her seat, thinking that she'd better stand up as well, because this angle only highlights her inferiority.

"But?" Olivia quips into the conversation.

"But I think I have to join your squad for this operation," Lori drops the bomb and Olivia is glad she's still seated.

"What do you mean?" Elliot asks as he takes one more step towards the two women.

"We were contacted by I'llfixya's operators. This hasn't happened often in the months since we took over his site. They wanted to know why they haven't seen the money that Elliot Taylor paid. Up till now, they weren't monitoring his actions closely, which verified for us that they have bigger things going and that he's just a side business for them. But now it seems that they monitored his exchange with Elliot Taylor, know about the money and the goods exchange and they want to know where the money is."

"That's good news, right?" Olivia asks.

"Well, we couldn't give them the money and we wanted to set a meeting for I'llfixya to finally meet his bosses, so we had to reveal some info to get them convinced," Lori replies, looking at Elliot rather than at Olivia who asked the question.

"What info?" Elliot asks.

"We told them, or rather, I'llfixya told them, that he was set up by SVU and that there was never a money drop off and that SVU is looking for the women."

"You did _what_?" Olivia raises her voice and finally stands up to face Agent Garcia.

"Relax," Lori says and Olivia feels the blood starting to boil in her veins.

"Don't tell me to relax," she starts, but Elliot cuts her off by calmly asking "did they fall for it, Lori?" and Olivia can't believe that sonofabitch.

Lori answers his question, ignoring Olivia. "They did. They told him to take the site off the air, asked which women SVU were particularly interested in and told him to meet with a contact man. You see, they know who he is, but he doesn't know who they are. Yet."

"How do you know they haven't realized by now that I'llfixya was actually the FBI in the last few months?" Olivia asks.

"We don't."

"So this could be a trap," Elliot remarks.

"It could be, but we want to check it, we feel that we're one step closer now."

"One step closer to killing this entire operation," Olivia raises her voice. "What about the women? Did you try asking them _that_ as I'llfixya?"

"Not exactly, but…," Lori starts replying.

"Not exactly?" Olivia cuts her off.

"Not exactly, but they hinted that the women that were offered on the site before are all 'unavailable' by now, that they have new ones for him and they'll have to operate it differently." Garcia replies calmly, moving her eyes between Elliot and Olivia.

"So you got it all figured out, what do you need us for?" Olivia asks sarcastically.

"You want us to take this one together?" Elliot asks, his eyes lock with Lori's, who turns her gaze away from Olivia.

"Yes, but your Captain has the final word on this."

"Cragen will approve this," Elliot replies and Olivia feels like she could kill them both.

At that moment Cragen walks into the bullpen. "I'll approve what?" he asks. "Agent Garcia, we were waiting for some more solid updates from you, I assume you're here to deliver some?"

"Yes. In fact, I want to partner with you on getting in direct touch with one of I'llfixya's operators, or at least with a middleman they'll appoint."

"So you want to partner with my detectives on the meetup?" Cragen asks.

"Yes. I don't know if we need everyone there, because we have our own people assigned as well, but I think Detective Stabler definitely will want to be there."

"Elliot, I assume I don't even have to ask, right?" Cragen directs his eyes at Elliot.

"No, Sir," Elliot replies.

"Ok, I want the details though. I don't want any surprises here," the Captain continues.

"You'll get them first thing in the morning. We're working on them at our House, your detective is invited to join us. It's going to be an all-nighter though," she says and sends a warning glance at Elliot, but one that is fully confident that this will not detain him from joining her and her team.

'What about me' Olivia wants to ask, but she keeps quiet, unable to utter a word that wouldn't sound bitter or sarcastic.

"Let's go, Agent," Elliot says as he grabs his jacket and his cellphone and is already on the go.

"We'll keep you both posted," Lori calls behind her back as she's already on her way out with Elliot by her side.

After the sound of their footsteps subside, Cragen speaks, guessing his detective's state of mind. "You're still on the case, Olivia, but we need to let Elliot be our liaison to this, ok? You know he'll keep us both in the loop."

Olivia only nods her head, her teeth angrily biting the insides of her cheeks. "What about the other cases we're handling?"

"If this takes long, you'll get help from Munch and Fin, but I assume they'll have the meeting with the operators tomorrow or the day after at the latest".

She goes home feeling almost betrayed, like she hasn't felt in years. She feels old, out of it, irrelevant, left behind. All those things that she shouldn't feel, because this is just how work is sometimes, it's not about her, it's not about how her partner thinks of her or appreciates her. But those gnawing voices inside her head, those that have been there since her childhood, those that tell her that she's useless, unworthy, unloved, those voices that she keeps fighting all her life, they're winning tonight.

The shower and bed she fantasized about are not restful, instead they're full of the painful memory of how dismissive of her Elliot has been tonight. She felt like it was a replay, a cruel rewind to the time they had to work with Rebecca Hendrix and how easily Elliot could make her feel small and insignificant. How easily she'd let him.

Eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

 ** _She doesn't lose a moment, her hands are all over his naked chest. He storms back to hold her and devour her mouth, sliding his hands into her shirt, pushing it up to her neck and armpits and all she has to do is bring her arms up and the shirt is off of her too. Elliot trails his mouth and both his hands to her chest, and she has to grab the desk so she wouldn't slip off it. Unwillingly her palms let go of the warmth of his wide chest and hold on to the desk, as he's rubbing her breasts over her bra and kisses the skin that the bra exposes. He doesn't bother to remove it, instead, he brings both straps down her shoulders and pushes the cups down and his hands are now on her naked breasts, his mouth follows suit and he rubs and licks and sucks the mounds of soft flesh and the pebbled nipples._**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

When she comes in the next morning, she doesn't feel refreshed. She feels as if the morning is an exhausting extension of the night. There is no sign of Elliot yet and she asks Fin if he's seen him. "He's not in yet," he replies. "Everything's ok?"

"Yeah, just, I want to know what's the gameplan for the Sarah case," she half-lies.

Ten minutes later Elliot walks in with Lori and Agent Smith. "Good morning," he greets, looking tired but energetic. They're all in different clothes to what they wore last night, so she assumes the all-nighter at least enabled them to stop by at home to have a change of clothes. The other two nod their heads towards the people in the squadroom, and they all walk directly towards Cragen's office. "Will you join us, Liv?" Elliot admits her existence.

Without a word she follows them into the office and closes the door behind her.

The Captain rises to stand. "Well?" he demands.

"We're going to meet someone named Harper tonight. We don't know where yet. Agent Hernandez is going to be there as I'llfixya, but because they know how I'llfixya looks, we're going to raid the meeting before they even have a chance to see his face from up close. We're going to raid them as SVU." Elliot provides the details.

"Who do you need there from our side, besides Benson and myself?" Cragen asks.

"Actually we're going to have enough manpower there, so it's optional for the two of you," Agent Smith replies.

"Optional or not, we're going to be there," Cragen replies, looking sternly at the two FBI agents. "Let's not forget that this is our case too and that you're going there as SVU."

"I'm going to be you for a while," Lori speaks, looking at Olivia, who is now dumfounded. "We don't want Harper or anyone that will back him up there know that the Feds are in on it, so we're going to raid them as SVU. We want them to think that we're only interested in the narrow segment of the specific women I'llfixya had on the website."

"What does it mean?" Cragen asks instead of Olivia.

"It means that we'll make the arrest as SVU, bring whoever we get in here, question them as SVU, allowing our Federal investigation of their other business lines continue without them suspecting."

"Ok," the Captain agrees, his eyes skimming the people that sit in front of him.

Olivia has her eyes fixed on Elliot, piercing him with her irises. He doesn't look back at her. Instead he continues with his update. "We're waiting for the exact time and place of the meeting. I'll keep you posted, Cap."

"Yes, you will. Sounds like you got everything covered. Agents Garcia and Smith will keep us all posted, and you can work on your other cases till you hear back from them, Elliot." Cragen leaves no room for arguments and Elliot just slightly nods his head, looking at Olivia from the corner of his eye.

When the FBI agents leave, Elliot walks with them to their car and Olivia returns to her seat to work on the schedule for today. She has one arrest to make and a few witnesses to question. She was planning to take either Fin or Munch with her but the surprising turn of events means she won't need either, because she'll have her partner joining her, at least until he gets called by his new partner.

When Elliot comes back into the bullpen and sits at his desk, turning his computer on, she quietly pushes the relevant pages towards him. "We have one arrest to make and six questionings to run," she says in a flat tone.

"Let it out, Olivia," he says in a sneering, flat tone, without looking at her. "Come on, let's hear it."

She raises an eyebrow and her mouth curls with disbelief. She just looks at him, waiting for him to look back at her. When he does, she just glances at him with that expression.

"Come on, I know when you're pissed off, so let's just get it over with."

"I'm not pissed off, so stop flattering yourself," she replies flatly.

"Yeah, right," he sighs.

For two or three minutes they pretend to go over the papers she's handed him a copy of, until he gets up and starts walking towards the investigations rooms. "May I talk to you, please?" he asks in a demanding tone, but it's the formality in his words that make her stomach drop.

Olivia stands up and follows him, bracing herself towards the inevitable argument, asking herself how come that after almost fifteen years of partnership, she's finding herself again at the same spot she's been in seven or eight years ago, when her personal feelings got in the way of her doing her work and Elliot had to call her on it.

Elliot stops in the middle of the Interrogation room, turning to face her. She closes the door behind her and he leans against the desk and crosses his arms over his chest. "What did I do this time?" he asks, looking at her, and there's nothing soft in his eyes.

"Nothing," she replies, her eyebrow quirks despite her inner conviction that she won't let him get to her this time.

"Don't start with that, Liv. I know you, you're pissed off because I'm playing along, right?"

"You're not just playing along," she finally breaks, "you're the fucking Welcome Wagon," she says and she hates the bitter sarcasm in her own voice.

"And what if I am? Why is that bad? They want to catch those guys and we want to catch those guys, what is wrong with that? You're the one who always tells me to play nice when it meets our interests."

"Play nice?" she almost yells now and she hates that he can get the truth out of her so fast. She wonders where her partner has gone to and who this guy is, because she doesn't recognize him right now. "We don't share the exact same agenda with them, so don't pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about." Her voice rises even more as the anger overflows her ability to contain it.

"You'll be surprised to find out that they do care about our vics. They want to find them just as much as we do," Elliot replies, uncrosses his arms and takes a step towards her.

"Why, because they say so?" she demands and she doesn't add that when she says 'they' she actually means Lori. "If the vics interfere with their path to the snake's head, they're going to trample over them without as much as flinching."

"That may be true to some FBI agents, but not to all, you know?" he says and his hint is crystal clear. It's a low blow.

"Really? Why? Because you decided it's not true about these ones, or because you want it to not be true?" She fights back.

"You're being unprofessional, Liv, that's not exactly graceful," he replies and her fist tightens and she wants to hit his fucking face, to hit the patronizing tone out of his throat and the coldness from his blue eyes.

"I'm being unprofessional? At least I don't let my personal likings or dislikings impact my mode of work."

His head tilts slightly back as if her words hit him. "Are you sure you're not doing the same?" he challenges her, his eyes connected with hers, and she wants to divert her gaze, she wants to escape his eyes because she's not sure what he can read in hers.

"Not more than you do, you son of a bitch," she hisses, her voice and gaze steady. She then turns to open the door and walk straight out. But he's quicker and his hand is on the knob just as hers reaches out to grab it. His palm is warm over hers and she turns angrily towards him. She can smell his skin now, in this proximity she can smell the cleanliness of his changed shirt and the earthy odor of his body mixed with his cologne.

"It's not about this case, is it? You've been off for a while now. What is it, Liv?" he rasps and there's some tenderness in his voice and eyes, but there's insistence too, as if he finally wants to get to the bottom of this. And she wonders if it's because he really cares or because he's had it with her pissy mood.

"It is about this case, and I'm tired of having to deal with your constant…," she halts mid-sentence because she can't continue letting him get the truth out of her. What could she have said here that wouldn't give her in? Nothing. Whatever she'd say, will betray her, will prove him right. She feels so tired all of a sudden, even more tired than she's been, if that's at all possible.

"My constant what?" he asks, keeping his voice low and calm, his eyes searching for hers. It's just an investigation tactic, she knows it. He wants her to say what she doesn't want to reveal.

"Nothing. Forget it. Let's get back to work, we have a long day ahead," she calmly replies. She too knows how to get things done her way, how to direct a questioning line into her preferred route. She knows he'll give up now.

Elliot glances at her quietly for a moment, and then releases the doorknob and her hand, taking a step back, allowing her to open the door. He quietly follows her to the bullpen where they need to take their things and head out to go make that arrest.

At his desk, Elliot grabs his coffee cup but the motion is too quick and some of the liquid spritzes the front of his shirt. "Dammit!" he hisses.

"Go, change, I'll wait in the car," Olivia offers, needing a few minutes away from him to recover from that scene in the interrogation room, from the feeling of his palm over hers, of his voice vibrating so close to her, of his eyes piercing her with questions and hints and truths.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

Great. She can just picture him fumbling through the stuff in his locker, looking for a clean dress shirt, not finding one and instead pulling out that black fitted t-shirt. It used to be black, it's dark grayish now. Then he probably realized that he couldn't wear that t-shirt with his dress pants, so his jeans were the next reasonable thing. And now she has to drive around all day with _that_. Elliot in jeans and a fitted tee. Especially now. What was the name of that murderous nutcase they caught years ago, who asked Elliot point blank about the way he looked? Olivia strains her memory and the fragments surface. "Look at your body. Who are you trying to impress?" that perp asked him when Olivia, Cragen and Huang listened in. "You're a tease, Detective Stabler, and everything about you says 'look at me, look at what you can't have...'" May she rot in hell, that one. Maggie, Maggie Peterson was her name! She had some good insights though.

"Liv, about before," he starts, his voice coming out suddenly in the enclosed space of the squad car and startles her out of her toxic reverie. She's a bit surprised to hear the considerate tone, but she knows Elliot, he probably just feels bad about their standoff.

"It's fine," she interjects and turns her eyes to the window, but she still catches the turn of his head to the other side, away from her. He's obviously resenting her for not yielding to his peace offering, but who cares.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

They are way ahead of her and she feels her heart pounding, her cheeks reddening with heat as she slows her pace at the sight of Elliot jumping on the guy's back and landing on top of him, crashing him to the dirty sidewalk. She reaches them when Elliot, panting, gets up and pulls the man up by his shirt, cornering him to a car, forcing him to lean against it and holding his hands behind his back to cuff him. The jerk continues to try and resist the arrest. "You have the wrong man, I'm telling you. I didn't do anything," he yells through rapid breaths.

Elliot leans his body weight against him, his formerly black t-shirt clings to his torso, his taut muscles showing through the thin fabric, the tattoo on his bicep is half exposed on the flexing muscle. "Yes, you moron, we know, you're innocent. Tell us something we haven't heard before," he says through straining breaths, his abdomen pressed against the guy as he's cuffing him. And she stands there, her hands on her hips as she tries to catch her breath, still panting from the run, her heart thumping in her chest and her eyes raking over him. She has seen Elliot cuffing a suspect, what, a thousand times before? A million? But for some reason, she can't remove her eyes from him right now. All their disagreements and her resentment over his altered attitude towards the Feds are forgotten in that moment, as she glides her eyes over him.

Elliot then looks up and when their eyes meet and he catches a glimpse of her face, she quickly averts her gaze, afraid that he might see what's going on in her head.

When he turns towards the driver's seat she's already on the other side and he can't really see her face. He's reading Ortiz his rights but all she can hear is the buzz inside her head. During the drive to the precinct they are both busy shutting Ortiz up and this helps her refocus and relax. Maybe he hasn't noticed the bedroom eyes she's had fixed on him just moments before, maybe he missed that she's been unprofessional yet again.

When they finally get to the One-Six, Olivia helps shoving Ortiz into the holding cell and just as he's in, she turns her back and throws behind her shoulder to Elliot that she's going to update their Captain.

She really needs to escape his presence. Something tells her that he has seen everything. He knows her well enough and she knows him well enough to interpret from his surprised glance that he's read her. But, God, she hopes he hasn't. She misses their morning yelling contest now, at least it was something she recognized. What in hell is she supposed to do now?

Just like a few days ago, for a few moments she has lost herself, her attention was inappropriately and completely focused on Elliot's physical presence, not as a cop arresting a suspect or examining a scene, not even as the partner she fights with, but as a man she couldn't take her eyes off. All these years she hasn't been indifferent to his masculine magnetism, it's pretty hard to ignore something like that, and even if she tried, seeing his effect on other women served as a reminder, but she worked hard and did her best to not let it get in between them and ruin their partnership and her sanity. She's finally losing it now.

Olivia shakes her head once again, her shoulder is already pushing in Cragen's door, as she's trying to ignore the inner voice that mocks her and the idiots she's dated, because obviously, the recent one being a poor fuck has had something to do with her current state.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

He's shirtless, right there in front of her, his chest shining with sweat, and her eyes follow one bead of sweat that is slowly sliding between his sculptured pecks towards his rock hard stomach. Her ears buzz, her head's a cotton wool, all there is is this bead of sweat on his chest and her hands that almost shake with the effort to stop, when she finally reaches them and touches his wet skin. She moves closer and catches that bead of salty sweat with her tongue, trailing it back up the path it has just made on his skin, from just above Elliot's abdomen, up to his pecks and from there slowly up to his neck.

"Hey." She nearly jumps to the sound of his voice from behind her. She has a nanosecond to squeeze her eyes shut to banish the fantasy that has taken over her in the middle of a work day. Behind her closed eyes the whole thing lasted maybe 2 seconds, while she's waiting on the line for Ortiz PO to pick up her call, but still…what the hell is she doing wasting even a second over this in the middle of the day?

"Ortiz is booked?" she asks, turning her head over her shoulder to look at Elliot who stands behind her chair, still clad in that t-shirt she's just imagined to be off of him.

"Yeah. Did you manage to get his PO?" he asks.

"No, still waiting on the line." Back to the case, she thinks, he probably hasn't noticed anything after all.

Elliot walks to his side of their joint desks and her eyes follow him. When he sits down, he intertwines his fingers and places his hands on the desk, while leaning back in his chair, stretching his arms, his eyes intent on her. "You ok?" he asks and her stomach drops for the millionth time that day.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She impatiently repeats the half lie from earlier. Elliot chews the inside of his lower lip, tilts his head slightly and then leans forward to take a folder from his desk, dropping his eyes from her, and she quietly releases the breath she's been holding. She needs to get her fucking grip back, she can't continue like this, she's losing it and it's all going to end in tears.

Two hours later, she allows herself to almost forget all about it, though Elliot is still in the fitted grayish black tee and she can still smell his skin. Chasing Ortiz has intensified the sultry incense of his body, which is a mix of his aftershave, detergent, soap and sweat, and it wafts towards her as he's sitting on the edge of her desk, finalizing together the interim reports of the case.

When Elliot's cellphone rings, she knows that it's Lori just from the look on his face. She's calling to update that the meeting will take place in a warehouse in the Meatpacking District at 8pm. They're going to scan the surrounding area and man the posts in half an hour. Things happen fast and Olivia has no time to get exasperated at the way Elliot is suddenly filled with energy. Cragen joins them, hears the details and the three of them start for Lori's office to meet with the others.

The hours stretch and they all have their own tasks. Olivia executes hers with Cragen. Their role is to ensure the west and north sides of the warehouse' surroundings are clear. They walk from one place to another, ensuring no one is following them and that everything seems normal and clear.

At 8pm everyone is ready in their positions, and Hernandez enters the warehouse. Lori and Elliot are already inside with other FBI agents taking cover at various corners of the huge building.

At 8:05 a big black car storms into the alley and into the building and doesn't stop at the entrance. It barges through the door and hits agent Hernandez, while a hand holding a gun is stretched out of the window, firing at him. Hernandez manages to roll on the floor quickly enough and escape the line of fire. Elliot and the agents inside start shooting at the car which spins around and frantically drives out of the warehouse.

The cops and agents outside step out of their positions and shoot the car, some successfully manage to hit the wheels, sending the car spinning into a wall. There are eight of them and they all walk with their firearms drawn towards the vehicle. There are two men inside, who apparently didn't mean to talk to I'llfixya, but rather kill him so he wouldn't talk to SVU. He was exposed and they wanted him dead.

They pull the two men out of the car, the driver is wounded, the shooter isn't. "NYPD, you're under arrest," Elliot calls, as he and Lori cuff the men and shove him into a squad car that pulls by. Agent Smith joins them, while the rest of the Federal agents remain to search the shooter's car and Cragen and Olivia leave for another squad car that will take them back to their precinct, calling for ambulance on their way to take the wounded driver guarded to the nearest hospital.

From 9pm to 2am Elliot and Lori are questioning the shooter, while Olivia, Cragen and Agents Smith and Hernandez watch through the double mirror. Two federal agents are guarding the hospital room where the driver is lying unconscious. Hernandez is slightly bruised and has refused to be taken to the hospital.

Olivia watches and listens, she witnesses the connection between her partner and the FBI agent. Elliot and Lori exchange looks that make words redundant between them as they agree on the course of questioning, on who plays what part and when, they're in synch and it works. The man refuses to tell them much, but they learn that he gets his instructions from someone he believes is in the Ukraine and that as far as he knows all the girls that appeared on the website are gone. He knew that Maria was dead, but he didn't know how, or what happened to the rest. He got money transferred in exchange to what he believed was a sale of these women to unknown buyers. "That's the whole point in using this web," he explains, adding about his customers that "we don't want them to know who we are, and we really don't care who they are. My employers just want the money."

They learn this and more, as Harper agrees to provide them with all this info in return to a DA's promise that he'll get immunity and lesser charges if he testifies. He has no choice, he was stupid enough to try and murder a man that turned out to be a government agent, in front of what he believes now to be NYPD cops.

"He's not gonna testify at the end, they never do. They're more afraid of their bosses than they are of us. He'll go to jail knowing that at least he's still alive," Olivia quietly says to Cragen.

The only times Elliot leaves the Interrogation room, are to ask Cragen to call in the DA, and when the DA's rep arrives to talk to him on the terms of a possible deal together with Lori, her colleagues and Cragen and Olivia. She learns how fast things go even with the DA office when a Federal investigation is involved. It doesn't surprise her, but it maddens her.

At one time she sees Elliot pulling his cellphone from his jeans pocket during the investigation, looking at the screen and then impatiently hitting the 'off' key. His phone must have buzzed in his pocket as someone called him and she could only guess who this someone was.

At 2am a cop is escorting Harper to a holding cell, while the detectives and the agents sum up what they've learnt. "I'll take it with my team tomorrow morning," Lori says. "I'll call you," she adds, looking at Elliot, as she prepares to go. None of them had anything to eat, hardly anything to drink, or even a decent bathroom break. They all look drained, but Lori, like some fucking natural phenomenon, looks almost radiant even with the few faded darker circles around her eyes. _I used to be like that too_ , Olivia thinks as she's looking at her own reflection in the women's bathroom mirror. Her skin looks grey, her eyes are encircled with dark rings, her hair lies flat on her shoulders, the creases at the corners of her eyes, mouth and nose are visible. She washes her face and lets the cold water give her the little comfort it could offer.

"Good job, Detective," she hears Cragen telling Elliot as she enters the quiet bullpen. "Go home and get some rest before tomorrow."

They both turn to look at her and Cragen adds "same to you, Detective." She manages to smile tiredly, she hasn't really done much tonight. If only they let her...

"Come on, I'll drive you home," Elliot says and it saddens her to think that she's somewhat surprised at this, because she's come to expect nothing of him these days.

On the way to the car they don't talk and the first two minutes of the ride go by in silence. It's a short drive at this time of night so she has to say something, she can't bear this silence between them, it's not a comfortable one, it's loaded with all the things that were said and left unsaid that morning, and from her side, with the stupid and teenagerish way she looked at him several times today, which seems to have been a week ago instead of half a day ago.

"You work well together," she finally says.

Elliot looks at her and she turns to look at him too, shortly before returning her gaze to the front windshield. "Thanks," he simply says. "There's still lots of work to be done here, it's gonna take a while," he adds after a slight pause.

She knows that it's his way of telling her that they still have to work with the Feds for some more time and that she'd better prepare herself for this, but that it's also his way of reassuring her that they're in it together. "I'll play nicely," she says with a faint smile, because she doesn't want to break what little she feels is left between them these days. She doesn't want to lose him completely. Not over work, at least. She's not sure that only work is involved here, but she's too damn tired to be thinking about this right now.

They only exchange 'good night's when she leaves the car but she knows he's watching her till she enters her building. She can feel his eyes on her back until after the building's door closes behind her.

It's almost 3am and she falls asleep the moment her head touches the pillow twenty minutes later.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

 ** _"Ungh, Elliot," she moans because this is too much. She's grinding against his hard cock which is still inside his pants though they're unbuckled and unbuttoned and unzipped and she yearns to feel it. Elliot answers her need and slopes his hands to the back of her pants, his palms sliding inside it, cupping the upper part of her ass, pressing her further to him and providing her the support she's needed to release the desk and open her own pants with shaky fingers. He then yanks her pants and panties down her legs, while she pushes his down and kicks one of her pant sleeves completely off to enable herself the flexibility she'll soon need. All the while their mouths are on each other, kissing and tasting some part of exposed skin, whether it's a neck or a throat or a jaw or a shoulder._**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews, folks, I soooo appreciate you taking the time to leave your thoughts with me, even if you're getting exasperated with the angst and Elliot's assholeness in this fic - I appreciate your perspective. (BTW, if you wanna get really pissed off, and by canon, (re)watch S6 epi 9).

 **Chapter 6:**

The next morning she comes into the precinct rather early, after only five hours of sleep. A shower, a double espresso and Olivia is as ready as she could be to face this day. She walks into the bullpen and is surprised and not surprised at the same time to find that Elliot is there already, looking somewhat fresher too, and Lori, who looks like she's had eight hours of sleep, sitting on the edge of Elliot's desk. They're so engulfed in conversation that only when she places her coffee cup on her own desk and says 'good morning', they notice her coming in.

"Good morning," they both say, and Lori adds "we're discussing the line of questioning for Harper, do you want to join us?"

Olivia joins them, standing next to Lori. She watches Elliot's face when Lori speaks and she thinks she can trace the smugness that hides under the serious expression. But she quickly shakes the thought, because the last thing she wants is for him to think about her as unprofessional. These words of his, that were spoken only yesterday, sank deep inside her, because he was right to some extent and she hates that she still feels like she has to prove something to him after so many years of partnership. She chimes in and they actually have a good discussion and some progress. At some point they go to the board that hangs on the wall and outline what they already know and the missing pieces that will be the focus of today's questioning.

Then, they fill in Cragen, Smith and Hernandez, who join them and move on to the Interrogation rooms.

Two hours of investigation bring some more information and when Elliot and Lori feel like they've squeezed everything out of Harper, they emerge from the room and FBI agents take leave and go to update the rest of their team in the FBI offices.

When they leave, Olivia feels like she can take the deep breath that has been deprived of her in their presence. It's stupid, she thinks, but it's almost a physical truth she can't deny.

They use the rest of the day to work on their other cases. The hours pass by, they work with Munch and Fin, and no word arrives from Lori and her team. Elliot texts her and her reply is that they're still discussing it.

In the evening Elliot gets a call from Lori. Her boss is still debating the options. She can't say much, but they're thinking about operating under the same method – use Harper to lure his employers to meet with him. They're working the details. Olivia listens and watches as Elliot's jaw muscle strains when he asks for more details and gets a short reply that probably still leaves him in the dark. "Ok, good night," she hears him mumble.

She gives him a quizzical look. "They're still working out the details," he says and she knows it kills him to succumb to this position. She knows she won't be able to control her mouth if she rides with him tonight, so she walks home. It's a pretty long walk but she'd rather breathe the night air than poison the atmosphere between Elliot and herself with things she knows he doesn't need to hear right now, that try as hard as she might, they will all sound like an 'I told you so' in his ears.

On her way to the precinct the next morning, Olivia promises herself that today she'll take Elliot aside and remind him that she's 100% with him on this. _It's not like last time we were partnering with the Feds,_ she'll tell him, _this time we're more careful, we've all learnt our lesson, I'm sorry for doubting you._ It's a frog to swallow, but he needs her support and she has to get them back into balance, not all is lost.

When she enters the squadroom, his desk is deserted. She looks around and meets Fin's eyes. "He's with the Captain," he updates her.

She knocks on Cragen's door and he calls her to come in. Elliot and Cragen both look at her as her Captain says "good morning, Olivia. Sorry we started without you. Elliot has some news from Agent Garcia."

Olivia takes the seat next to Elliot in front of the Captain's desk and Elliot brings her up to speed. "They made Harper contact the guy above him, a Ukrainian guy named Nikita. He saw him twice before, told us he wasn't the big boss, but a more senior middleman. Harper told Nikita that he took care of I'llfixya and that he has another potential deal for him, a much bigger deal, involving a couple that runs a very special establishment and is interested in a large shipment, but for this they want to meet the man in charge. Nikita agreed to it, after 100K in coins showed up in his account to secure the deal. The meeting is tonight. At the Madison. These guys just love this hotel."

A thousand questions fly inside Olivia's head but the one that escapes her mouth is "You and Lori?"

Elliot doesn't manage to reply because their Captain speaks instead "Elliot and Agent Garcia are going to run this op, yes."

Olivia presses her lips together and pensively nods her head. "Ok," she adds when they both continue to watch her. She feels like a goddamn rookie with them looking at her, waiting for her to fuck up and resist.

At the coffee corner she decides to show some good faith, like she promised herself she would right before arriving to work, and at the same time gauge for some more info, because she just can't help herself. "Did you know about this plan? Do you agree with it?"

Elliot doesn't look directly at her so she has time to skim her eyes over the front of his grey dress-shirt, the dark blue necktie, the buttons of the shirt and the gaps between them. "Heard about it last night," he replies dryly and she notices now that he purposely avoids her eyes.

"Oh," she says and a million things clash in her head like 'why didn't you call me, you son of a bitch' and 'how come you just swallow whatever the hell they feed you with this time when you used to fight their decision making in the past' and 'why are you shutting me off and don't look me in the eye'.

"Last night?" she finally adds.

"I met with Lori for a drink, we ran through the details, made some changes to the original plan. They're not keeping us in the dark, Liv," Elliot finally locks his eyes with hers. But she can't hold his gaze, not when the first part of his sentence penetrates her mind, not when her heart feels like it's in her throat. Her eyes drop to the mug she's holding. He met with Lori for a drink last night. _What the fuck?_

"Good, I'm glad to hear," she manages to say, or at least she thinks the words came out of her mouth in this order.

Elliot takes his coffee with him back to his desk. She remains planted in the kitchenette and only when she feels she can face him again, she joins him and seats herself at her side of their joint desks. She turns her computer on and an email alert about the upcoming conference is the first thing she sees. She would love to go there right now if she could, she needs to get away from all of this. Can Elliot seriously believe she's ok with how things are going, or is he just glad to avoid any further confrontation? And since when does an undercover planning session involves a late night drink?

She doesn't have much time to think, because two minutes later, FBI's own Eva Mendez walks into the bullpen. When he notices her, Elliot moves to stand up and Olivia pivots in her seat towards them.

"Good morning, we have a lot going today," Lori greets like an energetic tour guide and Olivia sneaks a peek at Elliot. She watches as his blue eyes hold the gaze of the green eyed FBI agent.

 _Good luck with that, Sandy_ , she thinks, but the words that come out of her mouth resemble something like a 'good morning'.

Lori gives her a radiant smile. "I trust Elliot has filled you in with all the necessary details, Liv." And Olivia cannot believe the nickname that has just left that woman's mouth. Liv? _LIV?_

"Yes, he has, and I was going to ask if we have more details about Nikita? Do we know what to prepare for tonight? Doesn't sound like someone who shows up to such a meeting alone." She's not going to be kept in the dark here.

"We're preparing for all scenarios. We're going to have a squat team there," Lori replies, still looking at her. "Elliot will fill you in with the rest," she adds and Olivia hates her a little more.

Elliot interjects before Olivia can respond. "You're here to pick up Harper?"

"Yes, I'll need two cops to escort us," Lori replies, locking her gaze again with his. Olivia feels it, she can just physically feel it, it's not just an exchange of info going between these two, there's something else there too. Where did their conversation end up last night?

"He's ready and there are two officers waiting to join you. I'll take you there," Elliot says.

"Sure, thanks. Bye, Liv," Lori adds and Olivia smiles at her.

"Bye, Lori, good luck tonight. See you then."

"See you then."

"By the way, Lori, are you sure you got everything you could out of Harper?" Olivia then asks. "Is it the only way to go, to just set up meetings with the upper guy each time you catch someone? Aren't they going to be suspicious at some point? From my experience, a few hours of interrogation are not enough with these guys."

"Elliot and I are very experienced with interrogations too, Liv, and we feel we've exhausted everything we could with him," Lori replies, slight aroma of anger seeping into her tone.

Olivia can see Elliot in the corner of her eyes. He places his hands on his waist, as if preparing for a standoff.

"I'm not doubting your experience or his, I'm just saying, that going to such an operation as you plan tonight, especially after what happened with Harper, seems a bit rushed. I'm just asking if we're sure we've gotten everything we could, that's all," she says and she does her utmost to keep her voice steady and her tone flat.

"I'm sure we did and so is Elliot," Lori answers and Olivia hates the way she feels free to speak for Elliot when he just stands there and says nothing.

Olivia than turns her eyes to him. "We got everything we could from him, Liv," he reiterates.

"Ok," she replies shortly, raising her palms in front of her, as if giving up on her point, giving up on him and on everything really.

"Feedback is always welcome, but we know how to do our jobs," Lori then says and Olivia feels the blood rushing to her face. That bitch. She just couldn't let it rest.

"I'm sure you do, but this is my job too and I know how to do it, which is why I'm raising questions," Olivia speaks angrily and deep inside she knows that part of it is not about the case, it's about Agent Garcia, about how Elliot seems to be so complacent having her as a partner. And deeper inside she knows that it's not even just that.

"Liv," Elliot jumps to stop her from fighting his new protégé, "no one said you didn't, but you have to trust us on this."

Us…now he's 'us' with her…

"I'm only…," she starts but Lori interjects "I'm sure you mean well, but everything is planned and agreed upon with your CO."

That bitch. Once again.

"Mean well? What do you think I am? A social worker?" Olivia rises to stand up and all her good faith resolutions are shot to hell.

"Liv, don't." Elliot moves closer to her, actually standing between her and Lori, who is several feet away. "No one's doubting anyone, we're all doing our jobs here." His voice softens, his eyes fixed on hers, pleading her to stop, defying her to stand still. "I'll go with Agent Garcia to get Harper to the FBI holding cells, I'll be back soon," he says and without letting either her or Lori utter another word, he starts walking towards the exit and Lori follows him.

Olivia remains to stand there, her fingernails boring marks into her clutched palms. She hates him so much right now. She's also ashamed of herself, because she knows it wasn't all strictly professional and it all feels like a déjà vu. What the hell is she doing? Is she fighting him? Fighting for him? Fighting over him? What?!

She's in her mid-fourties and Elliot is in his late fourties, and there she is, acting like a child. She hates herself for letting her vulnerability for him show like that, for letting her feelings get in the way, when she actually blames him for doing the same.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

At night the operation goes smoothly. Elliot and Lori, both dressed to kill, don't have to pretend for long. Nikita, escorted by two refrigerator-like body guards, is so eager to talk about money and about what he can provide in return to their money, that soon they have enough to arrest all of them. Olivia watches the whole thing along with Cragen and Riordan, Lori's boss, through the camera that is hidden in the hotel suite the meeting takes place in. She watches as Elliot stands behind the sofa Lori is sitting on, his palms rest on Lori's shoulders, as they play the owners of a unique escort service and Lori is explaining what sort of girls they need. She watches as he sits himself next to her and Lori rubs her hand over his arm and then places her hand on his thigh. She watches as Elliot leans close to Lori's ear, whispering into her hair, as they pretend to be discussing Nikita's offer. She watches it all and she knows him well enough to realize that this is not all pretense. She's seen him like that in the past. It's all too natural. She's seen him touching Dani Beck and his ex-wife. His hands feel at home on Lori's body. She's not sure what has happened between them, but there's physical convenience there which is visible, tangible.

This time, Lori's boss wants the suspect to be taken to the FBI facilities and be interrogated there. Only Elliot and Cragen are cleared to join them. Olivia is furious. She's been on this case from the get go, she identified the connection, she contacted Computer Crimes, and now this guy pushes her aside.

Her Captain updates her in the morning that Nikita doesn't talk and that they don't know yet what happened to Maria, Sarah or any of the girls on the website or the new ones he promised he could provide. Nikita knows that if he lets anything out, he'll be dead, either inside or outside of prison. For now they hit a dead end.

"Where's Elliot?" she asks.

"Home, resting, he's had an all-nighter," her CO replies.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

The next day Elliot doesn't show up as well. "They found Nikita's laptop. They think they've got some initial clues about his boss," Cragen updates.

Elliot finally enters the squadroom at around 2pm, looking tired. He stops to stand by her desk. She thinks about the fact that the last time they've faced each other was when she picked up an argument with Lori. "Hey," he says in a low voice.

"Hey," she says back.

"Cragen filled you in?"

"Yeah."

He chews on his bottom lip and just stands there.

"What are you doing here?" she then asks.

"The Feds are on it now. Lori will call when they have something," he replies and takes a few more steps and sits in his own chair. "What's new with the Bailey and Ortiz cases?" he asks, fumbling through new papers that were laid on his desk.

She gives him a short update. He remains to work with her for a few hours, going through lab reports, rereading interrogation subscripts, calling the ADA, checking some unclear points with a few witnesses. It's the mundane work they sometimes have, the type that doesn't lead to a breakthrough, but that slowly builds a case.

In their interactions, Olivia feels the congestion of all the things they said and all the things they left unsaid the other day in the interrogation room, when his palm was warm and his words were cold, of the barely-spoken olive branch they've offered each other later, and of her recent standoff with Lori. It all hangs heavily between them. They don't talk about anything that is not a necessity and this silence dampens the cloud that hovers above them.

"Elliot, Olivia, go home, get some rest, we might hear from the FBI tonight and you two look like you could use some sleep," their Captain offers in the early evening hours.

"I can't sleep now," Elliot replies, "but Liv can go if she wants."

"No, it's ok, I planned on staying late," she refuses.

"Ok, but take into account that this is going to last some time, don't burn yourselves out so soon." Cragen says before he walks back into his office.

"You want to take turns in the crib?" Elliot asks her when they're left alone.

"No, you go, I'm fine," she half-lies. There's not much in life she wants right now rather than sleep, but she can't afford it, there's so much to do.

"I'm good," Elliot replies.

A few hours later she succumbs to the fatigue and says she'll take a thirty minutes break in the crib. She practically falls off her feet.

A hesitant soft touch on her shoulder startles her awake. The first thing she sees is Elliot's face careened towards her, as his hand still rests on her shoulder. "Hey," his voice is soft, as are his eyes, and she hasn't seen him like that in a while. "Need another ten minutes? I can come back later."

"No, I'm up," she replies, sitting up. He straightens to stand, his hand falls from her shoulder but she can still feel its warmth on her skin.

"There's no news, you can go home and get some real rest. We'll continue tomorrow morning," he says with that soft tone and low rasp.

"I'm good," she replies, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, her feet on the floor. To her surprise, Elliot moves to sit next to her. Not daring looking directly at him, she gazes around and notices the coffee cup he's placed on the floor for her. She picks it up and takes a sip.

"Are _we_ good?" he asks and a fist of fear and hope tightens around her heart.

She turns her head to look at him. "Why d'you ask?"

Elliot bites his lower lip and his eyes are intent on her. "Because I need us to be," is his short reply, uttered in that same gravelly voice, and it's enough to make her gravitate back to what he's always been for her.

"Me too," she replies quietly, the fist around her heart tightening.

A faint, effortful smile is his reply.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoe

Elliot comes in the next morning too. They work the whole day on SVU cases along with Fin and Munch. She witnesses his inquietude, restlessness. He keeps looking at his cellphone, checking for the time, waiting for a call. When his cell rings she observes the change in his expression when he realizes it's not from the FBI.

At night, when he stalls at the precinct, she stops by his desk on her way out. "You're not going home?"

"Soon," he lets out a slight sigh, "I'm behind on some paperwork."

"What about Sandy?" she dares asking after a silent pause.

Elliot shakes his head once, shutting his eyes for a brief moment and presses his lips together. "I don't know what I was thinking," he replies and that's how she learns that he's no longer with that blonde.

"Ok," she bites her upper lip, nodding. "Good night," she adds, leaving, her head spinning with a million questions. Is it because of Lori? When? Why?

She has to swallow the questions and go through another day with a tangibly restless Elliot. "Have you heard from Lori?" she asks.

"Saw her last night, but nothing yet. They're still working up Nikita's command chain," Elliot says and her stomach clenches. _Saw her last night?_

She doesn't think she can take this much longer, not knowing what the fuck is going on with the case, with her partner, with herself. _He wants us to be ok, he needs us to be ok_ , she keeps reminding herself, hanging on to what he's told her only two days ago in the crib.

Another day goes by and Elliot's tension starts seeping through the seams. She has to come in between him and a suspect they arrest, because Elliot looks like he's about to lose it and use too much force. At the precinct she meets him outside the cribs' bathroom. "El," she says and immediately realizes that it's been a while since she's used that nickname. "Is everything ok?" her hand rises by itself, stopping right above his arm, without making real contact. She doesn't feel like she can touch him right now.

She retrieves her hand and Elliot is looking at her. "Everything's fine," he replies and she knows everything's shit.

That afternoon, on their way back to the precinct from Rikers, where they've questioned a former partner of a current suspect, she notices that Elliot changes their route and that they're not heading towards the One-Six anymore. She doesn't say a word. When she realizes where they're heading, she grits her teeth.

When he parks outside the FBI offices in the city, she looks at him and he returns her gaze. "Thought you were in touch with her," Olivia says flatly.

"I _am_ ," Elliot replies and in one quick motion he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the driver's side door. "You coming?" he asks with his head already out of the car. Olivia hurries to remove her seatbelt and leave the car too, regretting ever asking, because that reply was a slap of bad news.

They're silent all the way to the fifth floor. The front desk knows that Elliot is cleared to enter and they're granted special visitors badges right away. They stride in synch towards Lori's office door. 'Agent Lori Garcia' the sign reads on the door that Elliot opens without knocking first. When the occupants of the room see them and vice versa, Olivia and Elliot remain planted at the doorstep.

It takes a few seconds but Elliot is the first to find the words. "Well, well. Our stars crossed in heaven again."

Despite her baffled state Olivia has a short inward second to wonder when he's had a chance to read Shakespeare, before Lori speaks too.

"Detective Stabler, I'm sorry, this is a restricted meeting."

"I can see that," he replies. "Are you updating Agent Porter on our case, or are you working another?" his voice is sharp.

Dean Porter rises to stand. "Detectives. Olivia," he greets.

 _Goddammit._

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

 ** _Elliot pushes his naked pelvis against hers and the touch is so intense, too intense almost. Her palms slide up his chest, then cup his face as she brings his mouth to her again. Elliot slides his hands under her naked thighs and slightly raises her body up. With her eyes closed and her mouth on his, she knows what's next and just the thought makes her moan into his mouth. When he brings her down again, it's along his cock that is penetrating her._**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

Elliot takes two steps into the room. "I'm sure Agent Garcia told you we're working a case together, Porter," Elliot says though he's looking at Lori as he speaks.

Lori stands up too. "It's the same case, Elliot," she admits and drops the formal act.

Olivia follows Elliot and stops to stand next to him. "Agent Garcia, Agent Porter," she mutters dryly.

"Good to see you, Olivia," Dean says and she can't stop a faint sardonic smile from appearing on her face.

"I'm not sure I can say the same, Agent Porter," she replies using his formal title.

"Ok, Elliot, Olivia, though I'm not required to do so, if Agent Porter agrees, we can explain where our case stands," Lori says, looking intently at Elliot.

"Sure, please do, if Agent Porter agrees, that is," Elliot replies scornfully, already drawing a chair to the desk, sitting himself on it, stating as a fact that they're staying.

Dean Porter and Lori sit as well and Olivia has to walk over to a smaller round table that stands at the back of the office to bring a fourth chair, which she places by Elliot's. Her mind is still a whirlwind.

"Ok, so this is where we stand," Lori opens, "after checking a lot of options and based on what we've managed to learn, we think that human trafficking alone isn't going to get Nikita's boss out of his hole, so we're looking into the option of going with an arm dealing offer to him, and Agent Porter's unit owns that."

When Lori speaks, her eyes roam the three people in front of her, but then they fix on Elliot's face, who in return locks his gaze on her too.

"I should have updated you about it earlier, Elliot, because we work this case together, but till this morning it was just an option we were considering. I was going to call you right after I finalize the details with Dean." Lori adds, her tone of voice implies that she wants Elliot's face to soften, that she wants him to say something. Olivia knows what that feels like and she almost feels sorry for her. She's noticed how Lori absentmindedly used first names instead of the formal titles and Olivia knows that Lori is almost pleading.

Elliot grits his teeth before he speaks and his jaw muscle twitches. "If you updated me on time, you'd hear what I think about working with Agent Porter. I'm sure he told you about our mutual history. I don't have anything against his unit, but I'd ask for another agent to run this from their side. I don't trust him."

Olivia notes the way Elliot contains himself, not lashing out as she'd expect him to. Her own feelings about seeing Porter again after two years, especially with the way things ended between them back then, are still undefined.

"It's not your choice," Porter interferes, his voice harsh.

"Elliot, I don't get to pick who I work with, and you don't either," Lori then adds, her voice low, careful.

"I was about to let Agent Garcia know what I think about your capabilities, Detective," Porter adds and Olivia then pushes her chair back noisily and stands up. She now knows exactly what she feels. She hates the goddamn sonofabitch.

"This case is becoming a joke and it has gone too far!" she calls. "SVU has the right to interrogate those suspects. The FBI seems to have forgotten the reason of why we're here. We're not after arm dealers, while you are, and that's why you give up too fast on getting every shred of information about our victims. Let us interrogate Nikita and Harper again. Give us the opportunity to find out what happened to Sarah and Maria, and then you can get rid of us and continue working this case on your own without having us on your tail."

"We can't do it, Olivia," Lori replies. "But I can assure you we care too and that we got everything we could out of them. You'll have to trust us on this."

"I don't."

"That's your problem, Detective. Seems like you don't trust your own partner as well, because he was part of the interrogation," Lori replies.

"Then that's my problem too. But it doesn't change the fact that you're neglecting these women. We want to find them first and foremost." Olivia says, using the word 'we' and hoping to God Elliot is still with her on this.

"Why, because it happened on your shift?" Lori asks and Olivia feels the blood gushing through her veins. "Interfering with what we do is putting many at risk, but that's fine just as long as you crack this case?" Lori continues and Olivia can't believe that bitch.

"Do you hear yourself talk? Do you really think we just want to crack a case?" Olivia raises her voice, and she insists on the 'we' though she's not sure anymore if she's not alone in this. Elliot sits there without saying a word and she feels alone, so alone, and that 'we' now sounds so foreign.

"I'm sure you want to do your jobs and help victims and find the perps, but if you let us do our jobs then your job will be done anyway." Lori's voice is a bit softer now, but Olivia hates her even more now, because it makes her feel as if Lori is feeling sorry for her for being in the minority here.

"It doesn't work like that," Olivia says, smiling, as if she's explaining this to a rookie. She too can be patronizing.

"It will have to," Lori replies without flinching.

"Liv, let's hear their gameplan," Elliot tries. He finally moves to stand and she hopes that this proves that he's with her on this. They're all looking at her.

"Their gameplan? Where has this gotten us? And do you really trust _his_ gameplans?" she nearly yells the questions. Her chin pointing at Porter, who now rises to stand too.

"We're several steps closer to where you were before you had us on board. All you managed to do is bump into the FBI while searching for your vic," Porter interjects and she wants to slap him for everything he's done in the past and for the way he dares speaking about her case.

"I want to hear the full details first…," Elliot starts, his eyes moving between her and Lori but Olivia cuts him off.

"You can shove the full details, Elliot!" she says into his face, her voice steady. If she could only lose this crowd. "You only hear what you want to hear. She's throwing you crumbs and you're satisfied. Well, I'm not. Let me know when you find Sarah and the others. I have other cases to deal with." She angrily spits these last words and walks out, slamming the door behind her.

Elliot doesn't follow her and she's shaking with anger. He's so obvious and pathetic, letting his feelings for Garcia get in the way, he would never have succumbed to something like this otherwise, not after how Porter played them last time. And still, she feels like she's the loser in this game. The fight in Lori's office has proved to everyone, including herself, where she and her partner stand, not only with the FBI, but with each other too.

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Late at night, she's the only one at the bullpen of the One Six, after having blown off Munch and Fin's proposal to join them for grabbing something to eat before going home. She's seated at her desk, rubbing her fingers over her temples, as the budding headache she's been sporting all day has finally erupted. After the collision at the FBI, she went straight back to work, where she kept busy all day, shipping over a closed case to the ADA's office, finalizing a report that was overdue and driving over to the lab to pick up some urgent CSU findings that were delayed. Now it's quiet and she can finally focus on all the shit that's been luring in the back of her mind all day. Cragen wasn't around so she didn't have to explain to him about what had happened at the FBI offices. Besides, it's Elliot's job to do that, he's their 'liaison' or whatever it is he thinks he is to them.

From her temples, she moves to rub her neck, twisting it a bit from side to side, trying to release the tension that has settled in her muscles.

"Thought I'd find you here," she hears a man's voice, a familiar one. She turns in her chair to face him.

"What are you doing here?" she asks promptly. She cannot believe he actually dared to show up at her precinct.

"That was one hell of show you put on today," he ignores her question.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, but I'm not interested in taking it further," she flatly says and turns back to her computer screen.

" _I_ should have been mad, don't you think? After last time?" he asks.

She doesn't respond and she can hear him moving towards her.

He then stops in front of her, stooping a bit, searching for her gaze. "Can we please be professional about it?"

"Coming here is not being professional, Porter," she says without looking at his face. If one more person criticizes her professionalism, she's gonna burst.

"I'm always professional, Liv," he then says. "That's why you fell out with me last time," he continues and this makes her lift her eyes to look at him.

A bitter smile spreads over her face. Dean Porter chose the job over her two and something years ago, and she chose the job over him as well, but it didn't stop her from getting hurt. "Tell yourself what you need to tell yourself," she replies and watches him intently. After a short pause she adds "and please leave, I don't think we have anything to say to each other. I'm not on this case anymore and I need to work."

"You've always needed to work, Liv, it's your escape. This and your partner. Is that why you're over the deep end now, because he's partnered with someone else?"

Olivia moves to stand up, facing him closer to an eye level. "Are you done with the five-cents' worth of psychological analysis?" she spits.

"Tell yourself what you need to tell yourself, Olivia," he retorts and then turns to walk away, leaving her standing next to her chair, her fingers clutching the edge of her desk.

After a moment she picks up her cellphone and purse and leaves the bullpen, her heels pounding across the floor, giving an outlet to some of her fury. Is Porter using his past knowledge of her or has she been that obvious earlier today about her jealousy and about how she feels for her partner? This thought is gnawing at her as she walks home, stopping on the way to buy a bottle of red wine to take with her to the hot bath she plans on submerging in.

She hasn't heard a word from Elliot, and has no idea what he's been up to after she'd left Lori's office. Doesn't matter anyway, she thinks, he's on his own now, she just needs to accept that, at least till this case is over. Though she knows well enough even now, that things between them have changed materially and that there will be ramifications, there will be aftershocks even after this case is solved and filed in the archives. Their partnership, nevermind their friendship, has suffered a serious blow to its basis, something that wouldn't be fixed easily, or at all, leaving everything they've built to crumble. And seems like she's the only one who aches because of it. And being pathetic about it too, while she's at it.

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

The next day she works with Munch and Fin on two cases and tries to block the thought about Elliot and Lori and that dick, Porter. She doesn't care anymore, she doesn't want to care.

But then the night falls and in her silent apartment her mind can't escape that easily. She brought a casefile with her, to prepare for the next day, but unlike in the One-Six, here it's harder to ignore the constant questions that roam inside her head. The wine helps some and the music she plays in the background to keep the silence at bay. At around 9pm there's a knock at her door and her heart rate doubles. It's hard to admit but her entire body has been on alert for days, waiting for this knock to be heard at some point, letting her know that it's not all over, that he's true to his words – that he needs them to be ok, that he wants her there with him, that things between them have a chance to restore to the way they used to be. As fucked up as they used to be, it was better than what they have now. Instead, his mouth kept dropping bombs on her in the shape of words that told her that rather than knocking on her door, he was seated with Lori God knows where, having drinks, talking about work and then doing God knows what.

She takes a deep breath in an attempt to stop the heartbeats in her throat and flings the door open.

 _Sonofabitch._

"What are you doing here, Porter?" she asks angrily, feeling the blood rushing to her face from all the wrong reasons.

The agent releases a deep breath, leans towards her and mouths in her ear "I was hoping you'd be mad at me."

She retreats back and looks into his face. Is he drunk? "Well, now you know I am so you can leave. Good night."

"Won't you let me in, just for old times' sake?"

"No," she says and starts closing the door. OId times' sake? They betrayed each other and she suspected he'd killed people for 'national security'. Their old times are rotten.

"I'm a bit drunk, Olivia, in case you're wondering. But that didn't make me come here. I wanted to, even when I was sober, a couple of hours ago," he slurs and looks at his watch. "Just…seeing you…threw me back…I gave myself some time to think about it, and some liquid courage," he smiles a charming smile, like the one she used to love.

"You saw me, there, now you can go," she replies. She wants him gone. Alcohol buzzes in her blood too and her heart is still thumping.

He peeks over her shoulder. "Wine. Can I join you for just one glass?" She doesn't respond so he adds "then you can call me a cab."

She silently sighs. "Why should I let you in, Porter?"

"Because you want to. And it's Dean, please."

The sonofabitch.

She takes a step back and clears the way for him to enter. He stops and waits for her to lead the way to the sofa. She walks over there and closes the casefile and then over to the kitchen to fetch another glass. Porter remains to stand. Good.

She pours the wine and hands him a glass and then sits herself on the sofa, taking her drink in her hands.

He doesn't wait for an invitation and comes over to sit next to her. The smell of alcohol and cologne waft over to her. They sip their wine quietly.

"I don't hate you, Olivia. I know you hate me, but I don't hate you," he suddenly says, nursing his glass in his palm, looking at her.

"I don't hate you, Dean," she says. "You just weren't who I thought you were. I realized I'd never really known you."

Their gazes lock and his eyes are like velvet. Or maybe it's the booze. "And you were exactly who I thought you'd be. Tough, relentless, dedicated, loyal and kickass," he replies, smiling softly.

She averts her gaze. There are too many memories. He took the shot that risked and saved her life, the one Elliot didn't, because he was too scared to miss. She remembers Elliot's arms around her, his fingers touching the blood on her, looking for a bullet entry. She remembers it all, the lies, the suspicions, the double-play, the betrayal. And still, Dean Porter broke her heart that time.

She purses her lips together. "You'd better go now," she says. It's too much, Elliot, Dean, those memories. She shouldn't have let him in.

He reaches his hand and caresses her cheek. His hand is warm on her skin. "Ok," he whispers. "I'm glad you don't hate me. I never meant to hurt you, I thought I was just doing my job."

She removes his hand from her face. "You could be playing me again. You see, Porter," she says in a biting tone, using his last name purposely, "that's the problem. I don't trust you and I never will."

She's getting up and he seizes her hand, pulling her to the sofa. "Liv," he says in a low voice and his eyes are caressing her, the way they did the night she and Elliot played him right back. When she offered she'd tempt Porter, Elliot resisted at first, he was jealous, so jealous, blocking Dean anytime he attempted to get close to her, but then he realized that was their chance to play him too. Where has Elliot's jealousy gone to? Where has his self-respect gone to, that he's willing to be dragged into working with Porter again? The answer to that is too painful, so Olivia just gently releases her hand from Dean's hold. She straightens up to stand again, distancing herself from him.

"Please," she says, "good night."

He rises and follows her to the door. He stops to stand very close to her, his eyes skimming her face. "Will you ever be able to be in the same room with me?" he asks and she knows he's asking for her forgiveness, but she can't give it. Not yet.

"We're in the same room now," she replies dryly.

His hand is reached out to her again, his fingers lightly caressing the hair that is circling her face, then her cheek. She feels nothing.

"Good night," she repeats and his hand slowly drops from her face though he's not moving his eyes from her, and her voice is a half whisper as she opens the door.

From the corner of her eye she notices a movement and her heart and mind realize what her eyes haven't yet fully captured.

It's Elliot and he's standing there, outside her door. His hand still raised to knock on the wooden surface, but instead, the door opened for him to find her and Porter standing close to each other, Dean's hand is just ceasing to caress her as she half whispers 'good night' to him.

"El," she manages to say, arching her body slightly to distance herself from Porter. Elliot's arm drops to his side and he's looking straight at her.

"Detectives, good night," Dean says and then side steps Elliot. "I'll be in touch," he adds to her and she hates the smug little smile he has on, as if they've been caught in an intimate moment, as if she's forgiven him. She never said anything about being in touch.

Porter walks away and the sound of his footsteps disappear after a short while. She's still facing Elliot at the door.

"Want to come in?" she asks, gathering herself. She hasn't done anything wrong. If anyone has, it's him. She's had a moment to recover from the way her stomach dropped at the sight of him, from witnessing that he's come to her, despite everything.

Without a word, Elliot follows her inside, closing the door behind him. She turns to look at him and notices his eyes taking in the glasses of wine on the coffee table. "Can I get you some?" she asks.

"No, thanks," he replies in a flat and low tone.

She walks over and takes her own glass in her hand, just to do something, just to not stand there next to him, wondering what the hell he came here for and hoping that it was from the right reasons.

"What was he doing here?" Elliot then asks. It didn't take him long.

"I have no idea," she replies and then sips from her glass. "He wanted to apologize, I think, tell me he didn't hate me." She rolls her eyes but Elliot's face remains stern. The picture of them at the door has probably made him think that Porter's apology had been accepted.

"What are you doing here?" she then asks, taking another sip from the glass.

"Nothing. Nevermind," he says and he looks behind his shoulder to the door, and she realizes he wants to leave.

"C'mon, Elliot, don't do this. Tell me what you came here to tell me," she dares saying and her voice is soft.

"I didn't want you to feel left out. Thought you'd want to know that Lori pulled some strings and that Porter's not gonna work on this with us. Another agent from his unit is on it now. But I guess you already know that."

The look of amazement on her face is probably revealing enough for him to add "he didn't tell you?"

"No," she says with a slight tilt of her head and a little lop sided smile that tries to hide the clog in her throat, the curses that fly through her head, and the thought that Porter may have indeed just played her again. Or maybe he didn't try to play her. Maybe he thought that she'd already known about his removal from this case, because he still believed that she and Elliot were so close that he'd already told her despite the obvious fight they'd had in front of him.

Elliot looks over his shoulder again and she bites the inside of her bottom lip. "Are you hungry?" she asks. She wants him to stay, she wants them to be ok again.

"No. Had dinner at the office," he replies.

"The office?" she asks. None of them called the precinct an office. But then it dawns on her. Lori's office.

She bites her bottom lip now and nods to signify that she got it. Her gaze crosses with that of Elliot but their eyes escape each other.

"I'd better go," he says and her heart constricts with the feeling that he's slipping away from the flimsy hold she once imagined she had on him by the power of their friendship and partnership.

Olivia runs a hand through her hair, places her wine glass on the table and walks over to him. She closes her eyes for a nano-second as she passes by him on her way to the door. It's the internal realization that there's nothing she could do to stop him that sends her to the door, to let him leave before she does something stupid. She can't just reach out her hand and hold on to him, and getting over the need to do so is what makes her eyes shut for that brief moment to gather strength yet again.

He doesn't follow her to the door, he just pivots towards her and they gaze at each other.

"Did you forgive him?" he suddenly asks.

"Does it matter?" she retorts.

"No," he then says and she wonders if that's the truth.

"I don't trust him," she replies. Elliot's gaze drops to the floor for a moment. "You trust Lori?" she then dares to ask and his eyes return to her as in slow motion.

"Yes."

"Good," she manages to say after a beat passes and her voice is hoarse again. They just stare at each other and she's so aware to his presence in her apartment and to the way he makes her feel and to the fact that she shouldn't feel like that. Ever.

He doesn't say a thing then and just takes a few steps towards her, to the door. He stops to stand next to her and at this point it'd be enough if he told her that he wanted her back on the case again, that he missed working with her, anything, to make her running back.

"Night, Liv. Take care," he mumbles.

"Night, El," she replies in a hushed voice and opens the door.

He looks at her, hesitating, and then turns to walk away.

She closes the door behind him and leans against it. Distant tears sting her eyes and she bites her lips to stop them from approaching.

This night has been too much already. Dean and Elliot. What the hell did they both want from her?

Elliot and Dean. The only men that could ever match up to her are the only ones who never really wanted her. Dean she could finally understand. He chose his job over her, which she did too, after all. But Elliot, he chose her over the job so many times, every day. At least he used to. There were times he chose her over far more than just the job. He mortgaged his house for her behind his wife's back, he let her know he would stick by her even if she allowed a murderer escape so she could keep Calvin. Her decision could have cost him his job, pension, family. And still, with one look he reassured her that he would stick by her and whichever choice she'd made. He also knew that when he looked at her like that, wordlessly confronting her with what she was doing, she would choose to do right.

They were that close. So why hasn't he really chosen her? Even when he could? He chose Dani Beck, and now Lori, ruining the 'we're partners' excuse she used to explain herself why he would never have anything with her. Obviously being partners hasn't stopped him from going after Dani and Lori. But with her it was different, and now they're not even partners, who knows for how long.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

 ** _Her arms hold on to his neck, she's leaned against the desk again, and Elliot pushes deeper into her, his palms cupping her ass, giving him the lever to sink as deep as possible inside her._**

 ** _Her breasts are pressed to his chest, one of her arms encircles his neck for support, while she slides one of her palms down over his pecks, and then over to his back and shoulders and then down along the side of his chest, feeling his ridged muscles under her palm, while feeling him moving inside her, and their mouths are infused to each other's taste._**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: ** an extra long chapter, almost 2 in 1 :)

Thanks to all the reviewers! I usually reply to all the reviews, but some are posting as guests and I can't reply to them, so I thank you here. For those that are losing their patience with Elliot and want his POV - it's in the next chp - that's all I can promise.

 **Chapter 8:**

"I'll reassign the cases to balance the workload," Cragen updates them all the next day, and her question is somewhat answered when she learns how long it's going to take before Elliot returns to work with them. Weeks, Cragen has said. It's going to be weeks, so he has to slightly modify their mode of work in order to make up for the fact that he's one detective short.

She lingers in his office after everyone leaves and Cragen lifts his eyes from the papers on his desk and looks at her with a question in his eyes.

"Did they meet with Nikita's boss?" she asks.

"Not yet. It's more complicated with another department involved, but I'm sure Elliot has told you all about it. About Porter. Or rather – his unit, not him."

"Yeah," she replies and doesn't add that she doesn't really know the full details.

"You've got other things to concentrate on, Olivia. I need your full focus."

"You have it," she replies and then leaves his office to join the others.

And she is focused, she is, more than she has been in days.

In the afternoon she receives a text from Porter. He still has her number, or bothered to find it again. "I'm sorry about last night, I shouldn't have dropped on you like that. Can you meet me for coffee?"

"Apology accepted. No thanks on the coffee," she texts him back.

"It's just coffee, give me a proper chance to apologize in person," he texts in reply.

She doesn't answer so he texts again. "Drinking a cup of coffee takes 10 minutes, give me just that, in the deli across the street from your precinct."

"10 minutes. I'll meet you after work, 6pm, wait in your car." Her reply reads.

When she's getting ready to leave, finalizing a few last moment details for tomorrow with Fin, she notices his gaze straying towards the squadroom's entrance. "Should you be here?" he says to someone behind her and there's slight teasing in his tone of voice.

She turns around to see Elliot. In a black pullover and a jeans he stops to stand next to them. "I'm meeting Cragen," he says and a quick smile flashes on his face when he looks at Fin and then it disappears. He looks at her and only adds "Hi".

"Hey," she says and her throat clogs.

"He's in his office," Fin juts his chin towards the Captain's closed door.

"Everyone's in, how nice," she hears another voice and she has to turn around again, as does Elliot, to find Porter walking towards them. The bastard. She told him to wait in the car. She didn't want anyone to see her with him, not when they all pretty much know he's the enemy after what he's done last time.

"What are you doing here?" Elliot asks and her hand shoots to the necklace around her neck, her fingers nervously chafing it, as she speaks before Dean has a chance to.

"You can wait outside, Porter, I'll be right there." She tries to make it sound neutral, but she knows it's futile, there's nothing she could be doing with him – work related or otherwise – that would make it alright to be socializing with him. She hates herself for being so pathetic at this moment. Both Fin and Elliot look at her and their expressions are blank, which is worse than clear anger, disappointment or surprise.

"See you later," Elliot says, turning to Fin, and without a word to her or Porter, he continues straight into the Captain's room.

Fin looks at Porter disdainfully. "Wanna bug our phones again, Porter, or are you just squeezing for information in another way?" Her stomach drops at this. Fin thinks she's betraying their trust.

"You have no info that could interest me," Dean replies and she wants the ground to open and swallow her.

"It's nothing," she mumbles to Fin and walks over to Dean. She needs to get him out of there asap. Without another word, they both walk out of the bullpen, leaving Fin to watch them go. She'll have a lot of explaining to do.

"You shouldn't have come up here," she says as soon as they're outside. "I specifically asked you to wait in the car."

"I didn't realize it was an order," he replies and she wants to slap him. What was she thinking? Has she completely lost her mind?

"You know what, I don't feel like coffee anymore." She didn't grab her things when she left, and now she's glad she hasn't because the last thing she wants to do is go with him.

"We can have dinner," he offers, clearly ignoring her hint.

"I'll take a rain check," she says, and she hopes he remembers these words from two and a half years ago.

"Suit yourself, Liv." He's clearly angry, but she doesn't flinch. "Continue waiting for him and see where it gets you," he throws in her face and when she doesn't answer he turns and walks away.

She hasn't answered because the pang of his blatant words has kept her mute.

Is she that obvious? If Porter can read her, Elliot certainly can, and if he can read her and he still hasn't done anything about it, then nothing could ever change it. And if she continues waiting, where will it get her? She's known it for years, but there was always some excuse, now there isn't, and now she's too old to make excuses and not face the harsh truths of life: that she's waited long enough, that it's always been futile, that she ran out of time and energy and excuses, and that she hasn't fooled anyone because everyone knows the truth already, including Elliot.

And still, like being guided by a force of nature which she can't resist, she turns around and climbs the stairs again, the ones that lead to the entrance of the One Six and to the man that is still in there, the one she wants to see, to speak to, though she's not exactly sure what she wants or expects from him.

Fin only eyes her from his desk, without a word. She sits at her desk and reads some emails. When Cragen's door opens and he sees Elliot outside, she waits for her Captain to go back to his office and then follows Elliot to the elevators. He's only mumbled 'see you later' to both her and Fin when he walked outside, and now she walks towards him and he turns his head to look at her.

"Can I talk to you?" she asks and he returns his gaze to the elevator.

"I don't know, _can_ you?" he replies in his Elliot sort of way without looking at her. She sighs and this brings his eyes back to her. "Where do you want to talk?" he asks and she has hope again.

"Room 2 is empty," she says and they start walking, side by side, steps in synch.

As soon as they close the door of Interrogation Room 2, he half sits against the desk that is placed in the middle of the room and she remains to stand a few steps to the left of the door.

Now she's not sure what she should say. But he saves her the trouble when he speaks first.

"You should stay away from him, Liv."

"I am," she starts but she knows how bad that sounds.

He only looks at her questionably.

"I didn't invite him over the other night."

"So he's stalking you?"

"No, he wanted to talk, over coffee."

"He's a dick, Olivia," he says and when she doesn't answer he continues. "You and him, it was never a good idea."

She just lets out a dry scoff, her eyes escaping his for a moment.

"You're the one who agreed to work with him," she then says. "He wanted to talk so I thought I'd let him say what he came over to say." Her voice is quiet though she's boiling inside. She wanted this conversation to go differently.

Elliot straightens up and stops leaning against the desk. "It looked like he did more than just talking."

"Really? And how's that your business anyway?" Her anger has boiled to the point it's now spilling over. She's not sure who she's angry at the most - herself probably, because she wants him to care, to be jealous even, but not like that ; and she's angry at Elliot too, because he sees whoever he wants to, but interferes with her life when she dares to do the same. Again.

"It's not," he says, pressing his lips up, creasing his chin in a 'I couldn't care less' motion, taking two steps in her direction. "I came over last night to tell you he's off the case, because I didn't agree to work with him. Thought it'd make you happy, that you'd consider getting back on the case, but then I find him there and…"

"And what?" she somewhat raises her voice. He's giving her what she was willing to be satisfied with only last night, but now it's not enough, it's not even close.

"You know what, just forget it, Olivia, do whatever the hell you want," he gruffs, walking towards the exit and she stands there, to the left of the door. He stops in front of her. "You made it clear that you don't want anything to do with this case or with me anyway."

"The only reason I agreed to see him was to hear what he had to say," she repeats herself and she hates that it sound like she's begging. Their gazes are linked together and she tries to read his expression. When he doesn't answer, she bursts. "I don't owe you any explanations, just as you don't feel you owe me any! This was my case to begin with!" He remains silent and her anger is uncorked. "How do you think it makes me feel to see you waltzing all over it with Agent Gorgeous, leaving me in the dark?"

His eyes narrow and he's glowering at her and this is not a good sign. "So this is what it's all about? Me and Lori?" he asks and his anger is clear too, despite the low timbre of his voice, and it makes him seem bigger, closer, almost cornering her to tell the truth.

"No," she says after a slight pause in which she's had to gather herself very quickly. She's wearing a lop sided grin that says 'no, you arrogant sonofabitch' but her voice comes out a bit chocked which says 'yes, you sonofabitch', and her mouth adds out loud "it's about how easy it is for you to leave your colleagues behind for the chance of getting laid."

Even she can't believe she let these words come out her mouth, and now she has to brace herself to stand still and get ready for the blow.

Elliot just grins, a shit-eating-grin that makes his eyes look like blue steel. When the grin disappears, he chews his bottom lip, his tongue quickly wets it and he leans forward, bringing his face close to hers, the stubble on his jaw brushing her cheek and his chest slightly brushes hers, the smell of his body filling her and her eyes almost drift shut when he half-whispers "don't let your inferiority complex cloud your judgment, Detective." He then moves back, his eyes piercing hers when he adds "I'm glad we've had this conversation." He opens the door without removing his eyes from her, walks out and closes it behind him.

Olivia leans her head against the wall, her mouth opens to inhale deeply, her knees slightly trembling. The gravel of his voice vibrated in her body, his breath against her cheek and so close to her ear, sent pulsation to her lower belly, which was humiliating even more, considering that the meaning of his words crushed her heart. But she got what she deserved. She practically pushed him to this. She knows him, she knows what he's capable of, she knows which buttons to push. Did she want him to hate her? No. She wanted him to _make_ her hate _him_. She needed to hate him. It was so much easier than loving him.

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

The next day goes by somehow. She doesn't hear from Porter. Or Elliot. She doesn't ask about the case and Cragen doesn't volunteer to tell her. She works her other cases with John and Fin, staying late, going home for a quick shower, fatigued to the point of falling asleep as soon as her head touches the pillow. But in the middle of the night she wakes up and doesn't succeed falling back asleep. So she uses the help of chemistry. She can't afford thinking about how low she's stooped, how everything is probably clear to Elliot now after the ungraceful jealousy scene she's made, and about how he exposed her weaknesses in general and her weakness for him in particular.

"We have less than 24 hours to hold him, but it's plenty of time," she tells her colleagues and her Captain the next morning as they huddle in the middle of one of their suspects' interrogations.

"Munch, Tutuola, you'll have to handle this tomorrow if he doesn't speak today," their Captain then says and she's confused.

"Why them?" she asks.

"Because you'll be upstate," her Captain replies and she looks at him confused. "Aren't you going to the 2-day 'National SVU' conference?" he asks.

"I completely forgot about that! I have to leave tomorrow morning!" she calls, her hand rises to rub her forehead tiredly. The email reminders that popped into her mailbox, the ones she saw at first and then ignored. She didn't even mark her calendar. She's been too preoccupied and distracted for weeks. "Should I cancel it? Now that we're short in manpower," she offers without mentioning Elliot's name.

"No. You go, we need a rep there, I signed you up for some of the panels," Cragen indicates and Olivia nods her head.

They decide on a course of action for the cases they handle and she takes one of the squad cars in the evening and then goes home to pack so she'll be ready to leave NYC early in the morning for the 2.5 hours' drive.

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

She spends a whole day in a hotel that has a large conference hall with adjacent lounges and rooms for break out session, panels and roundtables. She moves from a lecture to a panel to a roundtable discussion with SVU colleagues from all over the country. And Olivia finds that she enjoys it. The venue is really nice, the food is surprisingly good and she's not as bored as she thought she might be.

In the evening she has dinner at the hotel with some of the people she's met, some that she knew before and several new faces, and it's refreshing. She checks her cellphone from time to time, but nothing interesting comes in. At 11pm she's dead tired after having to get up before six in the morning, drive for hours and then talk all day long. So she takes a long and relaxing shower and crawls into bed, thanking Cragen in her heart for choosing to send her there. She sleeps tight the entire night for the first time in weeks and in the morning she wakes up even more refreshed, like she hasn't felt in a long time, longer than she can remember.

Still in bed she reaches for her cellphone that lies on the nightstand. When she looks at the screen, her heart stops for a moment. She has 3 missed calls, two from her Captain and one from Elliot. And 3 messages. All from two hours earlier, when she was so fast asleep that she didn't hear the lowered ringtone. That has rarely happened to her in all her years in the Police force.

'Nikita's dead. Call me.' The first message from Elliot reads.

'Liv, pls call me,' the second one reads.

And lastly 'New developments in the Sarah/Maria case, pls contact me'. That was her Captain's text.

Olivia sits up in bed, runs a hand over her face, pushes her hair up and rings Elliot. His phone goes straight to voice mail. She then calls Cragen, who picks up after two rings.

"What happened?" she asks, almost out of breath.

"Shit hit the fan with the Feds," he replies.

"Where's Elliot?"

"He's with Lori and her team as far as I know. They got a call about 3 hours ago. Nikita was murdered in FBI's custody by another inmate. I don't have all the details yet, but I think he wasn't properly guarded, at least not for a guy who's supposed to lead the Feds to the 'snake's head'. Then a team that was sent to his rented apartment to re-look at it and check if it was searched or bugged or God knows what since he'd been arrested, found evidence that suggests that Sarah was held there. Looks recent."

"How do you know she was there?" Olivia asks.

"Initial DNA test to 2 blood spots that were found on the floor and comparison to her DNA that we got from the hospital the night she was there," Cragen replies and before she has any chance to ask, he continues "just two blood drops, Olivia, nothing that shows she's seriously wounded, or wounded at all really. We don't have 100% ID on her either."

"So we don't know anything for sure," she replies. "Elliot tried calling me. I called back now but was sent straight to voice mail. I'll leave now and drive back to New York."

"Don't. The Feds won't allow anyone near them now and there's not much we can do at the moment. Someone fucked up big time and I'm glad it's not us. The Feds led this and it's on them. Stay there, continue as usual and I'll let you know if we need you here." Her Captain leaves no room for arguments. He can't win this with the Feds, she knows that. He's probably tried and pushing him won't help.

As he spoke, she found herself holding her forehead, rubbing it, trying to hold herself from screaming the thousand questions that roamed in her head.

"What about Elliot?" she eventually asks, her eyes stuck on some distant point in the room.

"They can't pull him out now, and he wouldn't let them if they tried. I wouldn't let them either. They can swallow it as long as I'm limiting it to just one NYPD detective and one that's been on it from the get go," he answers.

 _I've been there from the get go_ , she thinks, but instead she just says "Ok, keep me posted. I'm waiting to hear from you."

"Will do," the Captain signs off.

Olivia tries Elliot's number once again but his phone is still off and she wonders why the hell that is, and in such a moment especially. She takes the phone with her to the shower, as she gets ready for the day.

She goes to the lobby and meets the others there. She has no appetite and she notices many are with their heads buried in their cellphones' screens, either talking or texting and she realizes that she's probably not the only one who left a bunch of work behind her and cases that don't wait for no one and keep developing.

The day goes by very slowly. She gets two texts from Cragen, who basically informs her that there's nothing new yet and that she should stay put and continue as usual. She's supposed to stay tonight and leave tomorrow afternoon and she feels like there's no way in hell she could wait that long. At one point, at around noon, Elliot's phone rings twice and directs her to voice mail again. She's torn between feeling sorry for him and Lori and between being sure that if they let SVU do their job with Nikita, this wouldn't have happened. But mostly, she's agonizing about Sarah. The woman that escaped her, that was frightened and didn't want to cooperate, and now could be in bigger danger, but there's nothing she can do about it except waiting and waiting and waiting.

At 8pm, after another day of conference participation, she emerges from the shower and starts arranging her belongings in the small suitcase. She's decided to leave and drive back to New York. If she leaves in half an hour, she'll be in the precinct before midnight.

She's in the bathroom, collecting her hairbrush and toothbrush and makeup kit from the counter, when she hears the knock at the door. At first she thinks it's room service or one of the participants she knows, maybe Kate Miller from LAPD. But then she opens the door.

"Elliot!" she calls out, surprised, her stomach plummeting two floors at the sight of him.

He's at the doorstep, looking like he hasn't slept in weeks too. He's clad in a dark blue pullover and jeans, and she moves aside, clearing the way and letting him into her hotel room. Without a word he walks in and stops to stand by the Vanity that functions as a desk too. He looks around him, as if he's unsure how the hell he got there, and she moves to stand in the middle of the room. Her eyes are fixed on him, searching for his gaze.

"Hi," she thinks she's heard him mumble.

"Is everything alright? What are you doing here?" she asks. Her stomach is flipping at the thought that something worse must have happened during the day. "I heard about Sarah. And Nikita," she continues when he's not replying.

He directs his gaze at her. "You weren't at the House today."

"I know. I was here." Despite the situation, a smile escapes her lips.

"I forgot about it." His voice is flat.

"You forgot that I'm supposed to be here so you drove all the way to make sure I haven't forgotten?" she smiles a nervous smile, hoping he'll explain what made him do the drive. The last time she's seen him he was cornering her physically and emotionally, reminding her of her many weaknesses, ruthlessly touching the exposed nerves she has for him.

A soft, faint smile crosses his face and disappears.

"Seriously, Elliot, what are you doing here?" she repeats. Even in their best times, when shit hit the fan, he shunned her. So she can't fathom why he'd look for her now, when they're on their worst terms.

"You know what happened, right? Cragen told you."

"He did, but he couldn't tell me much. What happened to Sarah, Elliot?"

"I don't know," he says quietly, defeat in his voice. "We did everything right. I don't..." the sentence dies on his lips, his gaze suddenly distant.

Olivia lowers her glance to the floor. _He's thinking of Lori_. She then brushes back the hair that fell on her face. "I'm sorry, Elliot." She then says, craning her head up again. "I was about to leave. I wanted to come and help finding her," she adds.

"There's nothing you could do," he says and just as she starts thinking that he's dismissing her, he adds "there was nothing I could do any longer either. After we interrogated the inmate that killed Nikita, Riordan wouldn't let anyone that isn't FBI stay. He tightened the security around Harper and I'llfixya. We're in waiting mode." He leans his backside against the Vanity now, looking tired and tensed at the same time and she wonders who's 'we're' – him and her, or him and Lori.

Nevertheless, she presses her lips together and closes her eyes for a brief moment, in a gesture that implies she understands. She takes a deep breath and then releases the question. "What about Lori?"

Elliot sighs inaudibly, his gaze drops to the carpet. "The FBI have their own internal investigation. She's being questioned."

She feels sorry for the both of them but what grips her stomach is a fist of jealousy and pain for herself because she thinks that if he could be there for Lori, he wouldn't be here.

When he raises his glance back up, her eyes probably tell him what she wants to ask so he adds in a somewhat rebuking tone "we did everything right, Liv, we had it all covered."

Olivia bites her bottom lip. She can't argue with him now. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No," Elliot replies and then after a short beat he adds "have you talked to Porter?"

Her heart skips a beat. "No," she drags the word. "Why should I?"

He shakes his head once, his face contorts in a 'nevermind' gesture.

"Why should I talk to him, El?" she demands. "Did he have anything to do with what happened?"

"No," he replies, "I was just wondering."

"Wondering what?" she starts losing her patience. Is this what he came here for? To check where her loyalty lies?

"If you talked to him," he repeats.

"Elliot, is there something I should know? Something you want to tell me?" she asks in a sharp voice. He's confusing her as hell and she's frustrated. And these questions along with the dark blue shade of his eyes, is enough to make her knees feel almost weak, to make her swallow nervously, hearing her own saliva clicking at the back of her throat.

"No," he replies flatly.

"So you drove all the way up here just to ask me if I talked to Porter?" she challenges, furrowing her eyebrows.

"No, I…" he starts saying, rubbing the right side of his jaw with his left palm, then looking at her he adds "No."

She's very close to being defined as pissed off right now, because this thing with questioning her about Porter is not rubbing her the right way. She has a feeling that Elliot is questioning her motives, her loyalty, her judgment.

She knows she'll burst if this continues, so she just watches him quietly and he returns her gaze. She's still standing in the middle of the room and Elliot's still leaning against the Vanity a few feet away from her. She wants to give him another chance, though God knows she's given him enough in the past few weeks. "Do you want something to drink or eat?" she asks just to say something. Then she realizes that he must indeed be hungry and tired. "I can order room service, you should eat something," she adds in a softer tone.

"No, thanks," he replies.

"So do you want to get some rest? I can go downstairs and you can get some sleep here, or I could drive us back to the city," she offers.

"No, I'm fine," he says, then sighing the words out he adds "I'm sorry I dropped on you like this, I…you didn't answer my calls and weren't at the House later, so when I realized you were here, I finished some things and just drove."

She has no idea what to say, she just slowly nods her head, her eyes locked with his.

She then moves to sit on the edge of the bed, facing him, a few feet away. "Did you get any more details about the girls on the website?" she asks after the short pause. This is what they usually do best. Work together.

"Nothing that can help us," he replies

"What about Nikita's boss? Do you think he made sure to kill Nikita cause he found out he's being held by the Feds?"

"We don't know. The FBI's hacking team is still trying to track him down through his Dark Net communication with Nikita."

"Good luck with that," she mumbles. "What about the inmate that killed him?"

"Said Nikita pissed him off. They're doing a full check on him, trying to see if he got orders or payment to do this."

"Shouldn't you be part of this?" she challenges.

"It's Riordan's call now," he replies. This is what she's warned them from the start, and she knows he's aware of it too. Maybe this is why they both fall silent after this.

It's hard for her to just sit there with him looking at her without speaking. It used to be easier, but now it's not. He's not saying much so she's still not 100% sure what he came here for.

"There's beer in the minibar," she says when the silent pause continues.

"Yeah," he says, almost absent mindedly, rubbing his forefinger and thumb over his eyes.

She walks over and checks the mini bar, which is actually next to Elliot, since it's under the far side of the Vanity he's leaning against. There are several beer bottles there as well as mini bottles of Scotch, Vodka and wine. She retrieves two beers, finds the opener and hands one bottle to Elliot.

She moves to sit back on the edge of the bed and they sip quietly. He then raises his eyes to her. "We were actually making some progress," he finally says. The tone of his voice and the look in his eyes make her heart ache for him.

"It's a complicated case," she replies sympathetically, her lips on the bottle, before she takes another sip.

"What else you got?" she then asks and Elliot fills her in with some details that he and Lori were able to pick up on and some dots they managed to connect. It wasn't something that could be considered as a breakthrough. They needed more, and Nikita's boss was supposed to be it, and now it's all down to shit.

She asks a few questions about the arm dealing plan they wanted to use, but mostly she listens quietly to his report.

At some point their beer bottles run empty and Elliot straightens up and moves over to the mini fridge, taking another bottle out. "I'll pay," he says, looking at her.

"That's ok," she says, "bring another one for me." Maybe it's the beer, but it's the most comfortable she's felt with him in a while.

He hands her the bottle and leans against the desk again.

She motions with her eyes towards the chair at the Vanity, hinting him to take a seat, but Elliot just mumbles "I'm ok," his lips hovering over the bottle.

They drink their beers quietly for a while and then she asks "do you think Sarah's still alive?"

He sighs quietly before speaking. "I think so. I hope so."

"I know," she replies. "At least it means she was alive very recently, so there's hope."

Elliot rubs his hand over his head and she watches him silently. They down a few, silent sips.

"Want something stronger?" Elliot asks, moving to look into the fridge again, taking out the various bottles and reading their labels.

"Haven't finished my beer yet," she says.

"Me neither. Here, take this," he hands her a mini-bottle of Scotch.

"No ice," she indicates.

"You'll manage," he says and returns to his previous position at the desk.

Without replying he opens his bottle. She places her unfinished beer bottle on the floor, at the foot of the bed, and opens the mini-bottle. She takes a sip and scrunches her eyes and nose. This is too strong. She takes another small sip and then places the half-filled little bottle at the foot of the bed, next to the beer. "That's it for me," she says. Her head starts buzzing, her heart thumping.

She can't remain seated anymore. She gets up and just goes over to the bathroom to turn off the light there for no reason. Elliot remains to lean against the desk, sipping from his mini bottle. He too is squeezing his eyes shut after every gulp. She stops to stand in the middle of the room a few feet from him, watching as he empties the little bottle.

"You ok?" she asks.

"Yeah," he sighs his reply.

"Are you sure?" she insists. He drove two and a half hours without explaining why exactly, he's managed to confuse her, piss her off, make her sorry for him, drink with him and fill her in on the details of the case, all in a matter of an hour.

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have drank that," he half mumbles in reply. "I can't drive now," he adds after a silent pause. He digs his phone out of his pocket, looks at the screen, then returns it.

Olivia doesn't really know what to do with herself. She watches him and when he looks back up they gaze at each other. She nervously bites her lower lip.

Their glance lasts a moment and then Elliot breaks the silence. "I'm sorry I dropped on you like that," he repeats.

"It's ok," she just says.

"I shouldn't be here," he says quietly, his gaze roams around the room, then fixing on the bed's cover. The bed is right across from him, which means a few feet away in the small space of a hotel room. "She…they're probably done by now," he adds, and her heart sinks. Olivia isn't sure if his words were directed at her or was he saying this to himself.

Maybe it's the alcohol that gives her courage, but she hears the words slipping from her mouth. "Are you sleeping with her?" She needs to know. She can't take this anymore.

Elliot's gaze shoots up and he's looking at her again. She thinks he's stopped breathing for a second, his jaw muscle is twitching as he grits his teeth. He then takes a deep breath and exhales it quietly, while she's waiting for him to clear with his words the scream that has started building inside her.

"Yes."

She wishes he wouldn't be watching her at that moment, because her knees threaten to buckle underneath her, she feels the blood leaving her face, her whole body probably, but her heart surprisingly is still beating and she feels it everywhere – in her temples, throat, chest, wrists – anywhere it's million broken pieces have landed.

Elliot breaks their locked gazes, his eyes escaping hers to the side.

"Ok," she thinks her mouth has uttered eventually.

Elliot then picks up his unfinished beer bottle from the desk and sips, his eyes glued to the floor.

She's glad, because now she can finally squeeze her eyes shut, letting the pang of pain wash through her. When she opens her eyes he's no longer leaning against the desk. He moves to sit on the bed's edge, where she sat just moments ago.

Their eyes lock together again and he suddenly reaches his arm and hands her his bottle. She takes it. She needs it now.

Olivia draws a long sip and then backs up to lean against Vanity herself. And now they're facing each other again, only they've switched places.

They're silent for a very long moment. Inside her head there are rational calculations aimed at escaping from him, from his presence now and always, along with clashing painful thoughts that come up in a random mass. The alcohol isn't making it any easier.

"It has nothing to do with how I ran this case and the work with them," Elliot's voice suddenly pulls her out of her reverie.

Something on her face must have revealed the 'yeah, right' that rang like a bell inside her head, because then he adds "we were professional about it."

"About sleeping together?" she laughs dryly though she wants to cry. It's a bitter laugh. She knows what she's doing, but she can't stop herself. She doesn't care anymore. It feels as if there's nothing left to care for anymore.

"Liv," he starts, his voice tender, but then he pauses. He stands up, as if he feels like it'd be easier to find the words that way, at eye level with her. He's right there and she wants to fade. She feels like she's already fading. Absentmindedly he takes a few steps in her direction and he's right in front of her now. "I…"

"You could have called to ask for my help with the case, or tell me about what happened," she interjects. "I would have come. You…why did you leave New York if you're…" she doesn't make sense, she can't finish her own damn sentences, she can't say Lori's name. She's tired, there's too much alcohol in her blood and she's heartbroken.

"I don't know, I…," he starts, but nothing he can say matters now, so she interjects.

"I was right all along," she says, her voice low.

"Right in what, Liv?" he asks and his tone is a challenge. "It had nothing to do with the case."

"It had _everything_ to do with it," she replies, straightening up, leaving the stability the desk provided.

"So you're saying that what happened now is my fault?" he asks, taking a step in her direction. His eyes become darker.

Their gazes are locked together. They're both stuck here and it scares her. The palpable tension between them is peaking now after weeks and months of buildup and she can't stand having him here. She feels sick. The memory of how he used his knowledge of her weakness for him drowns her, how he brought his face to hers, how he let his voice timbre low in her ear as he threw in her face, literally, that her inferiority complex clouds her judgment. He was probably sleeping with Lori even back then. Whatever is left of her heart breaks further at this thought.

"Why did you come here?" she demands, ignoring his question. "To tell me this? To poke about me and Porter? To…what?!" Her voice rises towards the end.

"I didn't come to tell you this," he spits. "You asked!" It's her turn to grit her teeth, holding herself from screaming her hatred into his face. "And Porter is…, it's not about him," he adds, faltering, when she's silent. "He's probably gloating somewhere."

"You really shouldn't be here," she only says, shakes her head once, then looks away from him, wondering what the hell she's going to do to pass through this night. She feels like she's floating, and she's not sure if it's the alcohol she's consumed or the surreal situation she's in. It's not a good feeling, in fact, she feels that if something is not going to root her back to herself soon, she'd scream.

"I just…I needed to talk to you," he says quietly, answering her initial question. But it's too little, too late.

"Why?" she resists his words, she doesn't believe him. He's sleeping with Lori. "You say there's nothing I can do, you were satisfied with having me out of the way in this case, cause that way you got to do whatever the hell you wanted, so why do you need me now?" she's close to yelling this.

"I don't know! Ok?" he yells back. "You're my partner," he then adds in a lowered voice. Then he can probably read the expression on her face because he adds "you withdrew yourself from this case, Liv, I didn't want you to leave. In fact, I tried…"

"You son of a bitch," she then hisses without letting him finish. She's bringing her eyes to his. "I wanted to be there, to solve this, with you, only you kept...," that last word dies on her lips. "You have to fuck up everything," she says instead.

"Liv," his tone is a mixture of hurt and warning for her to not continue down this path.

"No, it's true. You do. Even this!" she raises her voice again.

Elliot bites his bottom lip and nods his head slightly, as if saying 'here it is. The truth. Finally.'

Their eyes pierce each other. "You were just waiting for something like this to happen so you could say 'I told you so'," he then says in a low voice. There's a vein pulsing in his neck.

"Yes, you're right. I wanted to lose Sarah so I could say 'I told you so'," sarcasm drips from her lips like venom. She takes a step in his direction and now their chests almost touch. "I wanted to save her more than any of you!" she yells this part into his face, her eyes boring into his.

"Don't give me that whole holier than thou, Liv," his voice gravels and his eyes pierce her back.

"Fuck you," she spits. All she can see is his face, the untouchable face that used to signify everything for her, before they became so distant and foreign, and she wants to slap this mask from off his face and find the real Elliot behind it. And she doesn't even realize that she's doing it, actually raising her hand to slap him, till she feels his palm closing on her wrist like iron.

Her other arm is raised in an instinct, but he's faster. He grabs it too.

"Deny it," he rasps into her face. "Deny that this entire thing isn't about me and Lori."

"Wouldn't you wish that?" she mocks, her wrists still in his hold. "You think I can't neutrally criticize your work or how you bend your decision making process for your fuck buddy?" she hisses back.

"My decision making is affected? What about yours? Wanna talk about that?" he challenges, his breath intermixes with hers and she can almost taste the beer he's drank. His grip on her wrists is tight, they're both slightly heaving so his chest is touching hers, she can feel the heat of his body.

"What _about_ me?" she challenges back though her stomach clenches with fear, because he's pretty much made it clear that he knows that she has feelings for him and that they have guided her. "Is that what you drove all the way here for? To tell me I'm no better than you, to air my 'inferiority complex', or you just needed someone to feel sorry for you?"

"You're drunk," he expels into her face, though they both know she's not. He releases her wrists but they remain almost chest to chest.

"So are you, and you're a patronizing son of a bitch," she replies right into his face.

"Why, because I'm telling you the truth?" he asks and takes two steps back, distancing himself from her.

She's enraged. He's exposed her again and again, like she hadn't spent the last decade building thick walls between them, as if she hadn't busted her ass to conceal her feelings. There were few times before when she felt that all her efforts were worthless - every time he touched her. He must have seen it all very clearly and now he's using it against her.

"What truth?" her voice mocks as she fights a futile fight. "Why d'you think you have the truth?" It may be a pathetic attempt to divert it all back to him, but she can't resist the need to fight for herself although the battle has been lost.

"You know why," he looks at her and she knows he's not going to take anymore bullshit from her.

"Why?" her breathe suffices for nothing but monosyllabics.

His face is stern, his eyes are piercing her with anger and with something else, almost as if he is begging her to not make him say it – that he knows, that he's seen it on her face and in her behavior a million times probably, that he's heard it in her voice and words, that there's no point in concealing anymore, because she's failed in concealing it, in the last few months especially, that she hasn't fooled him, that she's alone in feeling this way, and that he can and has used it against her.

She tries to swallow the lump in her throat, forget the knot in her stomach and catch up with her breath. She needs every shred of strength she can muster. It feels like her life depends on it.

"Why?" she insists again, her voice raised, choked with effort. _Let all hell loose, air it all out, now, I can't take this anymore_ , she wants to scream. Elliot stares at her, not saying a word. She watches as he starts moving towards her again and she freezes on her stand. It's like watching a wave approaching the shore, threatening to devour it and losing the capacity to escape. Before she knows it, he's towering above her, lowering his head and tilting it so he could look straight into her eyes. Her eyes, that are now trying to avoid the strange tint of blue in his. But he won't let her. "You know why," he gravels. His voice guttural, low, and her knees are weak all over again.

Elliot's hand is suddenly on her arm. "You know why," he repeats, his voice a mere hiss, his eyes locked on hers and his face is so close to hers now that she inhales his breath. His touch sears her. He isn't going to tell her anymore than that, she knows, and it's enough. It's all out there and there's nothing she can do now, standing at the edge of the pit.

The smell of his skin surrounding and filling her, his proximity and the unmistakable danger in his eyes should have been preparation enough, but she is stunned all the same when his lips come crushing down hard on hers.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

 _ **They're both panting when Elliot releases her mouth so they could both breath, he then whispers her name in her ear and she moans into his neck. His thrusts become slightly faster and harder and she links her arms over his neck again.**_


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** "There Ain't No Cure For Love". RIP Leonard Cohen, I'm honored to have had the chance to attend your concert a few years ago. And to all of us in this crazy week.

 **Chapter 9:**

His taste is the first thing that penetrates her consciousness. His tongue in her mouth and hers in his, that's the second thing. His hands on her body, warm, strong, crashing her to him, that's the third. And his body, it's hard and wide and warm, and she knows it, because her hands are on him too. That's the fourth.

Nothing else registers in her existence right now, except for the feeling of Elliot's touch, and his smell and his taste.

His palm is cupping her face, his fingers splayed on her cheek, behind her ear, in her hair, and he fuses her mouth to his. His other arm is circling her waist, spreads across her back, holding her flush against him, while hers slide across his chest and over to his back and she fists his shirt, while her other palm blindly continues its journey over to his neck and shoulder and his chest again.

She can feel his heart thumping under her palm.

Her eyes are shut and she's lost in this. Lost, instead of remembering the harsh truths they've forced out of each other a moment before.

Elliot brushes his mouth across her jaw, kissing his way to her neck, and right below her ear she hears the words that are huffed against her skin. "God, Olivia."

Her lids shut tighter and her mouth trails his neck too and she inhales him, but then his mouth is seeking hers again, while his hand slides from her face down to her chest and she stifles a moan against his lips when he chafes his palm over her clothed breast. Her hands slide to his waist and find their way under his shirt, making contact with his warm skin.

Elliot's hands leave her for a nanosecond, his mouth hardly disconnecting from hers, when in one swift pull, he takes his shirt off completely. He then envelopes her in his arms, pressing her to him again. Her hands free roam the plains of him, feeling his muscles flex as his body moves across hers. She can feel his hardness against her stomach. They both break their kiss to breathe, exhaling against each other's neck and shoulder. His open mouthed kisses on the column of her neck and around her shoulder that he's exposed by pushing her shirt off it, induce a soft moan that she exhales against his chest.

Elliot then veers his head again and his mouth finds hers and their kiss is deep and urgent.

She's filled with him, but when he smooths his lips across her jaw and she hears his voice in her ear, rasping her name again, her eyes drift open and that all it takes for her to suddenly freeze, as a fifth thing hits her consciousness at once - the realization of what she's doing. Her hands arrest on his body and her lips mouth a silent "stop" against his neck. She then pulls herself a bit back, slightly distancing her body from his. "Stop," she gravels and he halts at once. Elliot then tilts his head back and they glance at each other through hazy eyes. His arms are still holding her, his palms on her flesh.

They're both panting and she shuts her eyes once more, feeling his arms dropping from her body like in slow motion, as he disconnects from her. She opens her eyes again and they just stare at each other for a long moment, their chests still heaving.

"I'll go. I'll sleep it off in the lobby," Elliot suddenly breaks the silence, his voice hoarse. She wonders if he means the alcohol, or her or both. He picks his shirt up from the floor, wears it back on and moves away from her in the process.

"Fine," she replies quietly. Everything inside her is numb, which is good because there's a deep cut in her soul that he's just opened at the seam with his touch and the pain is going to kill her, but at least not immediately.

"Will you be ok here?" he asks in a low rasp. They're both arranging their clothes, looking at each other with a few feet between them.

"Of course," she replies sternly, slightly tilting her head. She keeps her voice quiet, because a decibel louder and her tone will sound biting and she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction.

Elliot takes two steps and stops in front of her. He brings his hand up to caress her hair, but stops himself and his hand drops back. His eyes skim her face. "I'm sorry," he then says, his voice a half-whisper, a strange glint in his eyes.

She doesn't even want to think what he's sorry about – kissing and touching her, leaving her, going back to New York and to Lori, or all of the above. Whichever it is, there's no goodness in it for her. There never has been.

"Me too," she replies flatly, forcing her eyes to remain fixed on his.

"Good night, Liv," he says softly and she wonders why he bothers to be tender when he's been callous all along.

"Night," she replies and she watches as he turns and heads to the door. She doesn't follow him. He turns his head once more in her direction and they look at each other. She watches as he lingers at the doorstep, as if he wants to say something, before he closes the door behind him.

Only then Olivia stumbles to the bed, sits on the edge of it, feeling her panties still soaking in her fluids and burying her face in her hands. She's not crying. She's a mixture of overwhelmed and numb at what the last few hours have brought, at how a matter of a few hours could irreversibly alter fifteen years.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

When the car door slams behind him, he leans his head on the headrest, covering his face with both his hands. He then presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and his mouth quietly mutters "fucking idiot, fucking idiot, fucking idiot," again and again.

When he entered the One Six that afternoon, he wanted to fill in his Captain with the details of what happened at the FBI after Nikita had died, and he hoped to see Olivia too since she hadn't answered his calls or texts. He'd called her that morning even before he called their Captain, he was anxious to talk to her. Her desk was empty and it took him a while to realize she wasn't expected at the House that day. He had completely forgotten about the conference. As soon as he finished updating Cragen, he got into his car and numbly drove around for a while, unable to go home. At some point he noticed he was on one of the bridges leading him out of Manhattan and without too much thinking he just continued driving, till he was out of New York completely, realizing he was about to take the 2 hours trip to her. He thought about turning around and going back, because he had no idea why he'd started driving in the first place and what the hell he was going to do once he got there. But he'd kept driving till he reached her door.

And he could swear that fighting with her, hurting her and getting hurt by her and then furiously kissing and touching her, wasn't part of his plan.

But at some point the much needed blood in his brain was focused in his groin and he just acted on instinct. And lust. And something else that he'd been avoiding for years.

Elliot removes his hands from his face and places them on the steering wheel. He can't drive, his head buzzes with alcohol and adrenaline. It might take hours, but it all needs to evaporate before he can start that engine. He stares through the wind shield. He knew he couldn't sleep in the lobby, it's not that kind of hotel, he knew the car was his bed for tonight, but he just couldn't stay there and face her, face the aftermath, so he just left. He was angry at her. That was one part of why he'd left. Angry at her for distrusting him, doubting him, questioning his motives, his actions, and for being right. He was angry at her for making him admit things he didn't want to admit to himself, to her. He was angry at himself for hurting her like that. For loving her like that.

Loving her. Like he has, almost from the start, condemning them both to a fucked up and twisted relationship. In a way, he's always known. For years he'd been unsure, it was too elusive, this thing between them. At times he felt it was obvious and at others that it had never existed, and he knew that even if it did, he couldn't do anything about it anyway. But he loved her all the same.

When he was separated, the truth slapped him in the face with all its might. They both faced it. But with their cumulative demons, flaws and wounds, their mutual entanglement and the fact that for two people who shouldn't be emotionally dependent on each other they were up to their ears in a convoluted dependent relationship, it was like playing with fire, and he knew he'd get burnt and so would she. So he didn't, though it pulled every string in him. And she didn't either, after all. He was a coward and then it was too late, because she left. He was confused, hurting, his life disintegrating. And then came Dani. She didn't evade him, she sought him, she needed him. It was easier. No fire, no risk. Both Kathy and Dani needed him, and he needed to be needed. It's primal, it's stupid, but it is what it is. And Olivia, she'd always made sure to prove him that she didn't need him. And in the few times she'd let herself, her meltdown exposed something that frightened him – that he needed her, just as much and probably more than she needed him.

Back then, when she finally came back, it was all ruined. Their innate trust in each other wasn't a given anymore, it was something they had to rebuild. They were a mess. Weaving themselves into each other's lives and then retreating, getting closer and then pulling away, as if knowing that one of them would always withdraw from the fire just before the heat got too high, right before the meltdown.

It took years to restore them back to a convenient point, where the fire was kept at bay most of the time, till he wasn't sure anymore how much of it was left. And then he got divorced.

He divorced and he swore it wouldn't be like last time. He wasn't going to fall apart, to be celibate. Another protective shield. Fucking around. It was just too easy. And then very satisfying after years of marriage.

He coated his heart with a smooth and thick layer of flirts, of casualness, of distance, so that the fire wouldn't catch on, would slip off, wouldn't penetrate it. But there were moments with Olivia when it was a close call – a look, a scent, a random touch, a sentence – the heat was getting risky, but they managed to escape.

Until he couldn't. A few weeks ago, it all burst on him, sent his shields to all hell. A short moment, a mere few seconds, had done it all.

Till that point Olivia kept it together, just like he did, never letting him be completely sure of anything, always keeping him at arm's length, uncertain. In retrospect, it made it easier for him to avoid it all, to pretend he could carry on like that. But that rift in her shield, through which her feelings for him had seeped, brought his walls cracking down as well.

He'd seen it all very clearly. Her eyes.

Her eyes that had looked at him in so many ways for so many years - fierce, soft, worrying, reprimanding, challenging, caring, hurting, understanding - those eyes then looked at him differently, like never before, and fuck him if they weren't hazy, if they weren't glazed, if there wasn't something much deeper inside them. It made his heart miss a beat. It hit him right in the stomach and between his legs. He swallowed hard and tried to dismiss that thought, focusing on arresting a suspect, convincing himself that he was imagining it. But he wasn't. He wasn't. Fire was set loose and it was going to ravage them.

And _there_ was Lori. Beautiful, clever, energetic, not Olivia. She was sending him obvious signals from the start and till that point he only allowed himself to be flattered and intrigued by her interest. Only then, did he go for it.

He deluded himself that he would manage to somehow win that round against himself, against the fire, but very soon after, Porter showed up.

That fucker. Finding out the way he did about Porter's involvement in his case was hard enough. He and Lori had an entire altercation over it, and when he got his point across with her and went to share the news with Olivia, hoping that she'd see that he'd listened to her, that he didn't bend for the Feds, he found him there, glossy eyed with his hands on her. This sent him spiraling. He was gutted by the thought of Dean Porter breathing Olivia in, his hands touching her. Later that night he hosted Lori in his bed again, and after she had left, he stood at the living room window and under the Manhattan moonlight he looked at his own hands and thought about the hands that were touching Olivia; they weren't his and it seared him.

Olivia denied it and he wanted to believe her, but seeing smug Porter again in the precinct made him lose his grip. He knows he has no right to do any of this – suspect, interfere, envy – because she's not his for him to feel that way, he's pretty much made sure to ruin that possibility all by himself, so how dare he?

Because he's a bastard. He's kept her on the backburner half-knowingly for years. Recently he's been distancing himself while wanting her to stay close, ruining himself and ruining them and then blaming her for exposing him. He can't honestly say he knows what was going on inside his head the whole time.

He knows her, which is why he realized soon enough that she wasn't comfortable about Lori, even before anything had happened, probably because she knows him better than he knows himself and she'd realized what he was about to do. From there it went downhill. She exposed him and his weaknesses, fears, failures and cover ups, and he didn't want to admit any of it, futilely trying to hold on to denial and self-deception. But Olivia wouldn't let him, she didn't hide her distrust and contempt. And jealousy has made him worse, made him go too far and ruthlessly expose her too, letting his mouth say things he never should have, as if he was hoping that this would release him from the hold she's had on him. And what for - self-preservation?

Bullshit. Because he hurt her and by that he hurt himself further. And this is where it got him – nowhere. He could have Lori, just like Dani, but he can't have the only one he really wants and needs. He loves Olivia more than anything but he's hurt her more than anyone.

He's been playing to rules he couldn't win, not really. And the proof is that today, when things fell apart, all his defenses went down with it and he needed his partner, plain and simple - he needed her, just her, on so many levels, without really understanding it consciously. That's how he got here. And now he knows, now he painfully understands. He's a fucking idiot.

And tonight the mixture of fatigue, pain, need, longing, truths, shame, jealousy and ethanol made him let go of the restrain he's sentenced himself to. At some point he knew what he was doing but it was too late. He just wanted her, needed her, just her. He yearned to allow himself to touch that fire, to love her, to know for sure she loved him too, to be consumed by it and damn it all. He wanted it to undo all the hurtful things they've said to each other, to obliterate the existence of others, to erase the wasted years, to fix _them_. And it did. While he touched her and tasted her and felt her touch on his body, that's exactly how he felt – mended.

But then she pushed him away. He's not surprised, not really, because he didn't leave her any other choice after the profound damage he'd caused. And the realization of where they stand with each other these days, of the fact that she hardly trusted him anymore, that he was contemptible, at fault, unforgivable, and moreover - that they couldn't really be together anyway because they had been screwed from the get go - it all became clear again. And although he knows she loves him, he's seen her leave for much less before. And if she left now, he couldn't blame her for that. He couldn't survive it either.

So he had to get out of there.

A coward. Carrying burn marks forever.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

 ** _In this posture he's rubbing against her just the right way, complementing the friction of his hardness inside her. The pleasure is mounting to an almost unbearable height._**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:**

I try to post once a week but was travelling internationally from work and once I got back a load of work was waiting for me at home and at, well, work. So here goes...

Thank you so much for all the reviews and requests and correspondence, you make it all worthwhile.

 **Chapter 10:**

She's back in New York, driving the squad car back to the precinct under a grey sky. She's been driving for hours, longer than it took her to get out of the city, because this time she has to deal with traffic and absent mindedness. She left the hotel early that morning, after spending a mostly sleepless night there. When she went downstairs at 6am, her eyes searched for him, when she walked towards the car in the parking lot she was looking for another familiar vehicle but didn't see any. Elliot was gone.

Driving alone for hours in her state wasn't a good idea. Too much time to think. She didn't want to think, remember or feel. But she did all three.

She remembered the feeling of his body against hers, his warmth. She remembered everything and it wasn't a good thing. She thought about whose fault it'd been, she wondered what had made him touch her like that after so many years – alcohol, rage, lust, hate, love, what? And what part had she played in it – she'd been an active participant, and the fact that she finally stopped it wasn't an excuse. It was fucked up and wrong all along and she probably knew it all along, because he wasn't hers, never had been, not at that moment and certainly not after. And worse - he wasn't even the partner or friend he used to be. She felt that this should be her turning point, that maybe this had to happen for her to realize that.

And now she'll have to deal with it, because she has no intention of running away this time. She has work to do. She's going to find Sarah, and if this means that she'll have to work with him and with Garcia, then so be it.

When she enters the squadroom, neither Fin, Munch nor Elliot are at their desks. Cragen's door is open and she walks straight in. He lifts his eyes from the documents on his desk and looks at her. "You're early," he says and there's a question there. She left before the conference ended.

"Yeah, today was just the wrap up and with everything that had happened with Sarah, I wanted to be here."

Her Captain nods, as if considering whether to reproach her or not. "Did you talk to Elliot?" he ends up asking and she has no idea what to give as an answer.

"Yes, briefly," she lies. "D'you expect him here today?"

"Was here yesterday, said he'd be in touch today. He probably needed some break from it all. Knowing him, he'd jump right back in today." He speaks and her heart beats, because - was she the break?

She sits on one of the chairs in front of him. "I was thinking…what if Sarah knows other establishments, other prestigious places, my bet is those that are run by Ukrainian women, those that 'grew from within', and this is where she goes?"

"Ok?" he urges her for more.

"Give me one day to try this on my own. I'll let go if I don't make any progress," she replies, knowing that what her Captain should actually do is give this to the Feds and let them run this. But from the look on his face she can tell that he too has had enough and that he'd let her take this.

"One day, Benson," he points with his finger and she closes her eyes for a moment, pressing her lips together in agreement.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

"I'm not from Vice," she hears herself repeat for the seventeenth time that day. It's 8pm and she's dead tired. "I just want you to look at this picture," she asks the woman in front of her. And God might still care for her, because the expression on the woman's face changes although she shakes her head in the negative.

"You _do_ recognize her," Olivia insists.

After some explaining, pleading and finally threatening that she'll call Vice, the woman agrees to direct her to someone named Penny, who might know where Sarah is.

When she leaves the place she calls Cragen. "I've got something," she updates.

"Don't go anywhere, I'll join you," he replies. He hasn't heard from Elliot, except for one text message that said 'we're working on it, I'll be in touch'.

Olivia drives to the apartment the woman has directed her to and parks at some distance from the building. She's waiting for Cragen in the car, swiping her palms over her face, then pulling down the sun visor and looking at the dark circles around her eyes, at her grey skin and overall drained looks. She then slams it back up and takes another sip from the coffee she got at the nearest bodega.

A car parks not far from her and she watches a tall man entering the building. She continues waiting and then another car pulls over not far from her. She doesn't recognize it, but she knows the man that steps out of the passenger's side door. It's her Captain. _What the hell_ , she manages to think right before the driver's door and the backseat door open in synch.

Elliot Stabler steps out of the driver's side and Agent Lori Garcia from the back, and the three of them start walking towards the squad car. "Fuck," she mumbles to herself, takes a deep breath, her eyes flicker shut for a moment to gather strength, and then she opens the door and scrambles out.

"Hey," they all say pretty much at once. Her eyes avoid those of Elliot but meet Lori's. The FBI agent looks weary but she greets Olivia with a small smile.

"It's up there," Olivia says, pivoting towards the building, "third floor."

"Do you know anything about this Penny?" Cragen asks.

"No. Olga, the woman I talked to, didn't go into much detail, but I think Penny is retired or something, she's helped several women already," she replies, looking at no one but her Captain.

Elliot stands there and she feels his eyes on her as she speaks, but she doesn't dare to look in his direction. "That's the best we have at this point. Let's get going," he says when she's done, his voice rugged and her eyes automatically turn towards him but she averts them immediately. He's in a suit and tie and he looks so much like ordinary Elliot that it unnerves her even more, as if it further establishes the fact that everything that has happened to them lately is not some dream or nightmare, but a reality.

"Should we all go in?" Lori asks as they start walking.

"No, let Olivia handle that," Cragen says, his tone leaves no room for arguments. Although he's not Lori's commander, his tone of voice tells her that he's lost his patience and that she'd better not insist on this one. "Elliot can go in with her," Cragen adds as they reach the entrance.

It's a nice building in a nice residential area and they all go up to the third floor, but once they reach it, Cragen and Lori remain at the stairwell, while Elliot and Olivia turn right in the hallway and stop at the apartment door.

When she knocks on the door, she notices Elliot placing his hand over his Glock. She knocks again and when there's no answer she turns her head and their eyes meet for the first time. She chews the inside of her bottom lip, she's focused now, more than she has been in a while, disengaged from anything but the mission at hand. She breaks their gaze and looks at the door again. Elliot rubs a hand over his mouth and chin, pondering their options, and exactly then the door cracks open and a woman is peaking through it. "Can I help you?" she asks with a distant remnant of an accent.

"Penny?" Olivia asks.

"Who's asking?" the woman questions.

"I'm Sarah's friend," Olivia manages to say before the woman quickly closes the door. But Elliot is quicker, he leans over Olivia, his body brushing hers in the process, and he gets his foot in the door, stopping it from getting shut.

"We're the Police, Penny," Olivia then says, her tone deliberately soft. "We're worried about her, she's in danger and we want to make sure she's ok."

The woman has no choice but to let go of the door, and they follow her into the apartment.

They speak to her for several minutes, gathering from her that Sarah called her and that the only help she could give her was to direct her to a friend of hers in Boston who could host her for some time. During the interview Olivia finds that old habits are hard to break. Her gaze keeps crossing with that of Elliot, as they wordlessly assert between them that the information they get is valid, as they decide on the next question and who should ask it, or when they've had enough. They're being cops, partners, and not two people who furiously and stupidly broke an impassable boundary for the first time in so many years last night.

When they're all outside of the building, they stand next to the squad car Olivia arrived in. "If you managed to get to her, Nikita's bosses might too," Lori says and Olivia tries to decide if it's an insult, a criticism or an advice, but she knows that whichever it is, Lori is right. "I'll make sure to put a detail on her just for a while," Lori adds.

"I'll contact the relevant people in Boston," Cragen says and Lori chimes in with "we will too," gesturing at Elliot, and Olivia wonders if Elliot is by any chance transferring to the FBI or if Lori just can't get anything done alone.

"Good, we'll be in touch tomorrow," Cragen sums up. "I'll ride with you," he then addresses Olivia and she nods.

"Good lead, Olivia," Elliot says quietly, his eyes intent on her. She only nods her head once and they break eye contact. "I'll talk to you tomorrow," he adds as Lori starts leaving for the car they arrived in, and Olivia has no idea if this is meant at her or at Cragen.

Only when she climbs back into the car and in her peripheral view sees Elliot walking away with Lori, she grits her teeth, inhaling deeply through her nose in an attempt to remain calm.

"I was about to leave when Elliot called. They're following a lead on the inmate that killed Nikita, hoping to get something from that quarter too. He called to update on their strategy, so I updated him too." Cragen says as soon as he's seated next to her, explaining why he's arrived with Elliot and Lori, and she wonders what he knows or suspects.

"It's ok, we would have updated them anyway," she replies.

"Are you two ok?" he then asks, looking at her as she shifts into gear. She probably hesitates for too long, because he then adds "when this case is over, you'll have to work together. Don't let this be your breaking point."

 _Work together again_. If only he knew. But she doesn't say a thing. She only lets a fast, small, fake smile cross her face. Till they reach the One Six, neither speaks.

Back in her apartment, Olivia takes a long shower and crawls into bed. Luckily, despite everything, she falls asleep almost immediately.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

The next morning she's back at work. They haven't heard back from Boston yet and there are other cases that they need to handle. To her surprise, Elliot walks into the precinct not long after she does, clad in a suit and tie, two coffee cups in his hands, heading straight to his desk, hardly stopping even when he places one cup on her desk. Her eyes follow him, and he then returns her gaze when he's finally seated.

"Witnesses questioning for the Burke case today?" he asks as if they're in a middle of a regular work schedule and on regular terms with each other.

She's confused for a moment, but gets a grip pretty fast. "Yeah. I was going to ride with Fin, but I guess…," she replies without really finishing the sentence _. Really? Really? They're just supposed to continue as usual now?_

"Leave in ten?" he asks, his eyes on his computer screen already, probably going through his emails.

"Yep," she mumbles.

Ten minutes later they walk towards the squad car without exchanging one word. She drives and he sits by her side, holding the list of addresses she's handed him before they left the precinct. "Cut through here," he says, as she maneuvers the car through traffic. And the few words they exchange till lunch are about the addresses, the traffic and the people they talk to.

The air in the car feels more condensed than ever and the inconvenience between them is so palpable that it's as if it has never been any different, as if they have always been so cautious with their words, looks and physical distance.

They get a lunch via the first drive thru they notice. Elliot's driving and he parks the car not far from the next address they have to visit and they eat silently. There's a lump in her throat and she takes little bites just to seem unconcerned, at least as much as he does, but what she wants more than anything is to be out of this car. She's contemplating stepping out and going to sit on a nearby bench alone. This proximity is too much to bear and with every hour that goes by, the poison of their silence, of their avoidance of what has happened, only spreads further.

She wonders how serene he could be and how much more aggravated this could make her, when his voice suddenly cuts through the stuffed atmosphere of the car. "Liv, I'm sorry…about the other day."

Her heart misses a beat and the bite she's just swallowed threatens to make its way back up her throat. Her head turns in his direction and she's dumbfounded for a moment. "Ok," she manages to utter though what she really wants to ask is 'which part'.

"The whole thing…the last few weeks," he continues, as if he hasn't made a pause, as if he's heard her silent question. His eyes are on hers for a second, but then he averts his gaze.

She bites her bottom lip. "Yeah," escapes her mouth.

"I didn't mean to…it was never a good idea," he half mumbles, staring through the wind shield, and her heart rate doubles. _Never?_ _What's he saying here?_ After a pause he adds "I don't want to throw away everything we…have…," he stumbles on the words and she has no idea what the fuck he means. Isn't it too late for that? Right now they have nothing really, he's been busy throwing it away for a while now.

But she can't speak, not right now. It's all too raw. The clasp around her heart isn't letting go and it keeps her mute. She takes a swig off the soda bottle that is nestled in her palm, then chucks her half-eaten sandwich back into the paper bag.

"Liv?" he asks and his head turns in her direction. She doesn't return his glance, her eyes are glued to the wind shield.

"When d'you think we'll hear back from Boston?" she ends up saying when her peripheral view affirms that Elliot has averted his gaze from her profile. She needs to get this conversation back to the only place it can go – work.

"Tomorrow the latest," he replies and his voice is hoarse. He wipes his hands with a napkin and starts the engine. After a short drive they get to the next address and continue their day as if his attempt at apologizing and by that further abrading the wound, has never happened. As if nothing has ever happened, as if they were distant colleagues that by mere chance can read each other's minds during an investigation.

Back in the One Six they summarize everything that they managed to gather during the day. Fin, Munch and their Captain are there too, and they all discuss the case. It's after 7pm and she thinks that surviving this day has been one of the hardest things she's done. She won't be able to face another. Something will have to change. She can't be that serene for much longer, she can't fake it either. And eventually she'll come undone. So he'd better not be around for that. It'd be the cherry at the top of her humiliation.

And just then, like some haunting punishment, Agent Garcia walks into the squadroom, stopping to stand next to all of them. "We'll have to be in Boston to do this," she announces to no one in particular, but after roaming around her eyes park on Elliot. Olivia has noticed how his body has stiffened upon Lori's entrance and how his jaw muscles dance now. "There's a flight pass in your email already," she speaks to Elliot now, and then, turning to Cragen she adds "Benson's got one too." She then moves her eyes to Olivia.

"What happened?" Cragen asks.

"Our guys there found Vicky, the woman Penny directed us to, but she's not cooperating. I think we should have a go at this. Riordan agrees." She adds that last part after a beat and just by this Olivia can imagine how Lori now has to explain her every move to her CO, after she's fucked up with Nikita.

"Good call. You'll _need_ both my Detectives to do the talking," Cragen establishes, implying Lori's incapacity to handle this.

"Well, Vicky's still an escort, we'll have to maneuver her to talking to us, so one SVU detective could have been enough, but I thought Benson would want to be there too," Lori replies and Olivia wonders if that's her idea of an olive branch. She also observes Lori's use of her last name, probably aimed at keeping their personal issues under wraps.

"Olivia found Penny, this is hers," Elliot says just as Cragen starts with "I want Olivia there."

Olivia notices the change in Lori's face. A red glow climbs from her neck. "This should have been ours to begin with," Cragen continues. "When we find Sarah, we'll handle her, and you can continue on your own after the bigger target."

Lori nods once, and Olivia wonders if that's the closest that her Captain can get to telling her off and basically remind everyone that Elliot's work with the FBI is done once they find Sarah.

"When's the flight?" Elliot then asks and Lori turns to him.

"First thing tomorrow morning. It's a shuttle we have, the pass will get you through. I'll see you at the airport?" she asks, her eyes moving between Elliot's and Olivia's faces.

Olivia only nods in agreement. Elliot closes his eyes once in assertion.

"Ok, folks, go home, it's getting late and everyone's got their work cut out for them tomorrow," Cragen then calls out and the little huddle disperses. Olivia moves towards her seat, while Elliot and Lori remain to stand together. She can't hear what they're saying but soon afterwards Lori leaves. Elliot doesn't stall much longer and five minutes later he grabs his suit jacket from the back of his chair. "Need me to pick you up tomorrow?" he asks.

"No, I'll be fine," she says, swallowing and hearing it amplified in her ears. _Need? You?_ _No._ _I'm trying not to._

"Ok, see you at the airport then," he replies, bites his lower lip and then, after what seems like a moment of hesitation, he walks past her, mumbling "night, Liv," on his way out.

When the sound of his footsteps is gone, she slumps into her chair, her hands move to cover her mouth, as if her body knows it needs to block the scream that has built inside her all day long.

Great, just when she thought that things couldn't have been worse, the deities ensure she understands that it could get worse. Much worse. Alone in Boston with Elliot and Lori.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

 ** _Her fingernails sink into his skin when he picks up the cadence and she starts breathing faster, moaning quietly in between when he brings her up and up and up and up._**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** To my constant correspondents, for trusting me even when it's hard. You know who you are, ladies :)

"Everything I know is wrong / Everything I do just comes undone / Everything is torn apart / Oh, that's the hardest part". Coldplay.

 **Chapter 11:**

And alone it feels. So alone.

With him it used to be her and him against the world. There were a few times, when they had their greatest rifts, when she felt alone although he was right there next to her. But it has never been that bad. She's never felt that alone with Elliot Stabler right there by her side. It's so bad that she wants to laugh.

They hardly say anything to each other except for the necessities. Not that he and Lori speak to each other much either, but that doesn't add to her feeling of comfort, because she thinks that she's probably intruding on them.

Luckily, the Feds have air shuttles so they're spared being stuck together in a car for hours or stranded in long airport lines. And it's even luckier that they're all seated apart from each other in the small plane during the short flight.

Their first stop is the FBI offices in Boston where they're being briefed about the findings of Lori's local colleagues. They get microphones there too, which they will use at the little undercover they decided upon in order to get Vicky's attention and cooperation.

When the three of them are alone in an empty office that was provided for them, they call the escort service Vicky works for. Elliot asks for a meeting with her, pretending to be Mark Lawler, a man that wants an escort for the night. The one thing they didn't take into account is how popular Vicky is. Her services are unavailable for the next few nights, so he agrees for a nooner the next day. When they hang up they're all looking at each other and Lori is the first to say "nooner? I didn't see _that_ coming." Despite the tensed situation, small exasperated smiles flash over Elliot and Olivia's faces.

"We can use the time to see where Vicky lives, maybe she has Sarah there," Olivia then imports. She wants to find Sarah before Vicky suspects something and makes her disappear, if she hasn't already, if Penny hasn't tipped her off. But she has another motive – she can't stand the thought of being stranded with Elliot and Lori in this room. She has to turn off so many internal circuits to be able to make it through the day, that being active can only help.

They agree with her, probably because this situation is unbearable for them too. Olivia manages to numb herself internally to the point of being 99% focused on the mission at hand.

Trusting that Vicky isn't home, but escorting someone, they go up to her apartment at 8pm. It took them several hours to conduct a deep dive background investigation on her, and now they stand outside her door, listening in for any evidence of someone in there. Olivia knocks on the door once and again and a third. There's no answer and no sound coming from within. Her eyes cross paths with those of Elliot and she notices his palms fisting as if he's holding himself from kicking down the door.

They back away towards the staircase to discuss their options without being overheard by anyone who might be hiding inside the apartment.

"What are our chances to get a search warrant if you say we need it cause Vicky is connected to a chain of human traffickers you're after?" he asks Lori.

But Olivia interjects. "If Penny was telling us the truth, then Vicky has managed to somehow ditch Nikita's organization and find a regular service that gives her more control over her work. She's managed to stay off Nikita's radar, let's not expose her."

Lori consents and adds "we'd better wait till tomorrow, till you speak to her."

Elliot just nods and the three of them go downstairs. They wait in the car for ten more minutes to see if there's any life signs from the apartment – a light being turned on, a curtain moving, anything at all – but nothing happens. "Can we have a detail on it?" Olivia asks.

"I already asked. No manpower for it. We can take turns ourselves," Lori replies from the passenger's seat, turning her head to look at Olivia who purposefully took the backseat when they reached the car.

While Olivia ponders Lori's idea, Elliot speaks. "Sarah's not here. Penny probably contacted Vicky and Vicky warned her. How gentle were your buddies in the local office when they talked to her?" he asks Lori, his tone somehow accusing, which makes Olivia wonder what the issue with Nikita has done to them.

"I trust them," Lori replies flatly, and without bothering to answer her, Elliot starts the engine.

Not a word is uttered when they're driving to the hotel that has been booked for them.

It's nothing like the nice conference hotel she stayed in just three nights ago when she and Elliot…no, she can't think about it. Please, God, she can't think about it now. They get three rooms, all in the same floor. And the dead silence between them continues as they walk over to the single elevator, each carrying a small bag. Olivia notices a foyer with vending machines not far from the elevator.

"I'll get a sandwich from the machine," she declares and breaks from them. "Meet you down here tomorrow at 8?" she asks. She's afraid they'd offer to go get something to eat together, she needs to escape their presence. Right now.

Elliot mumbles an affirmative, his eyes trained on her.

When she reaches the second floor ten minutes later, after stalling at the vending machine much longer than needed, she sees and hears no one. She walks into her plain room, leaves everything on the desk and lays on the bed in her clothes, her feet dangling towards the floor. Only then does she take a deep breath and releases it slowly. How the fuck did she get to this place. She worked hard all these years to never be in this situation with Elliot. The man was married when she realized she had feelings for him and it took everything in her to avoid the exact point she's in now, when he's divorced.

After a few minutes of futile reverie, she stumbles towards the bathroom and takes a long steaming-hot shower. The effect of the purifying water and steam helps relieve some of the tension in her shoulders and heart, and she falls asleep on the bed wrapped in a big white towel.

Two hours later she's woken up by the sound of several people speaking in the hallway. She sits up, immediately remembering where she is and who these people could be. She listens carefully but she doesn't recognize any of the voices that drift far down the hall. Doors are slammed and everything is still again, except for her heart that still races in her ribcage. Olivia lies back down and tries to will sleep to take over her. The more she tries the faster her heart beats, till she gets up, looks at her cellphone and sees that it's just after midnight. She feels hungry all of a sudden and eats the sandwich that has waited on the nightstand, hoping it's still edible. When she realizes that she's nowhere near sleepy, she decides to go downstairs for a drink. While she was wasting time at the vending machine earlier, she noticed the hotel bar which seemed dark and quiet enough for her to want to sit there for a while now.

"The house red wine, please," she asks the bartender. She then nestles the glass in her hand and looks around her. The bar is a big room to the right of the hotel lobby. It has an entrance from the street too, so it serves not just the hotel guests. There are a few tables with couples or small groups sitting at them. The lights are dim, the music is nice, she recognizes a Coldplay song in the background. She's sitting on a bar stool and there are a few vacant seats between her and the next patron. She enjoys the solitude, sips from her wine, looking around her every now and then, listening to the music.

When her glass is empty Olivia realizes that sleep is still not ready for her, so she orders another one, hoping that more wine and another half hour of idle sitting, vacating her head from thoughts and her heart from feelings, will do the work.

She's mid-way through her second glass, when a man passes behind her and she doesn't even have to turn around to know that it's Elliot. The solid figure, the height, the swagger, damn, even the whiff of aftershave that reaches her, all assure her that it's him. She lowers her gaze to the wooden surface of the bar, hoping he'd miss her and she could somehow escape and walk out. But just as he's about to sit two stools away from her, Elliot observes her. He stares at her, she can feel his eyes on her, so she turns her head to meet his gaze.

"Hey," he says in a low voice and moves to take the seat next to hers.

"Hey," she replies, her breath shallow and a nervous smile crossing her face as Elliot is signaling the bartender.

"D'you want another?" Elliot asks, his chin juts towards her glass.

"No, thanks, it's my second," she replies.

"Scotch on the rocks," he tells the bartender.

Elliot's in a jeans and a black fitted cotton pullover and she wants to die, fast and painless if possible. "Couldn't sleep either?" he asks and she presses her lips together and nods her head without looking at him.

She then takes a small sip of wine as she calculates in her head when she should say good night and get the fuck out of there, away from this torture.

"Thanks," Elliot tells the bartender and takes the first sip off his drink. There's a long pause and she finds that she's counting down from a hundred, as if promising herself that it'd be all over when she reaches zero. When she gets to about twelve, Elliot's low timbre almost startles her. "It was a breakthrough, finding Penny."

Her chin rests on her joint fingers and she tilts her head slightly to her left, towards Elliot. "I just want to find Sarah," she says flatly. She can't think of a short, polite reply that will come close to what she really wants to tell him.

"We should have tried that route earlier," he says honestly, and she feels his eyes on her. She knows that he's admitting the 'I told you so' that rings in her head – that there were other ways to go about this case rather than the upward route the Feds paved.

She doesn't trust herself with speaking, so she remains silent, counting down again from a hundred.

"I hope we get to her tomorrow. It's the first time since we started this wild goose chase that I really think we're getting there. We'll find her and then…maybe…we could…find a way…we could…put this behind us," he's stammering.

To this Olivia turns her head some more and now her eyes meet with Elliot's. She looks at his face, all the features that are practically embedded within her, and she feels like she doesn't know who the hell he is. And probably more than the liquid courage in her glass, this is what makes her finally speak.

She lifts her head up from its place on her entwined fingers, locks her eyes with the blue eyes she usually can easily read. "Do you really think we can leave any of this behind us? Just like that?" A smirk of disbelief spreads on her face.

"Liv, I…," he starts but she's had enough.

She gets up and utters "good luck with that, and good night, Elliot." But she's made a mistake because she turned to her left to leave and now she has to brush against him because the stools are too close together.

"Liv," she hears him call after her, but she doesn't want to hear what he has to say anymore.

"Charge it to room 212," she throws behind her shoulder to the bartender and walks out. As soon as she's in the lobby she almost runs to the elevator. It's waiting there already, so she enters and presses the key, waiting for the door to close so that she could be alone. She rushes towards her room and opens it with shaking hands, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. Only then she finally allows herself to break. A sob escapes her lips and she hates that she's so weak and he's so steely. And what the fuck was he even doing there, wasn't he supposed to be in bed with Garcia?

She walks over to the bathroom and sprays cold water on her face, because she's not going to cry. She's not. She's not.

She buries her face in the soft towel, inhaling deeply the fresh smell, thinking that if she could only stay like this forever, become inanimate, it'd be good. But then there's a rap on the door and any soothing effect is gone.

"Go away," she mumbles into the towel. The rap is louder the second time. "Please, just go," she utters into it again. When it repeats the third time and she hears a muffled voice calling her name, she leaves the safety of the bathroom and walks over to the door. Her hand is on the handle but she hesitates, but then he knocks again and this time she opens the door.

"Can I come in?" Elliot asks, his tone stern, almost demanding, and she can't believe he acts as if she owes him something.

"What for?" she shoots back.

"We need to talk."

"Why?" she insists, though knowing him and her, she knows she'll let him in eventually.

"Because we do," he insists too.

"Elliot, I don't…I don't know what you want me to talk to you about," she tries.

"How about the truth for once?" he challenges, his eyes locked on hers.

"Fine!" she spits and opens the door fully. What other truth is he hoping to get? Didn't she give him enough truths? She's so tired at his insinuations that maybe it'd be better to get this over with.

When he walks in and closes the door behind him, she stops in the middle of the room and turns towards him, her hands on her waist. She cannot believe that in a three days' span she finds herself in a hotel room with Elliot again.

"I want to fix this," he says, his body slightly leaning forward towards her although he's ten feet away.

"Fix this? Fix _what_ , Elliot?" anger is evident in her tone.

"This! I...if I could…," he starts and it's even more painful than she'd thought it'd be.

"You'd take it back?" she interjects, completing his sentence. "What – the things you said to me, the way you acted during this whole case, the…the other night?" she falters towards the end but manages to continue.

"I didn't mean…I never meant to…, " he starts, his voice softer, but she interjects again, because she's had it with him.

"You said that before. I get it. You're sorry and you didn't mean to." Her tone is combative and if looks could kill…

"I _am_ ," he says harshly, probably because she doesn't let him finish his own sentences.

"So what happened, Elliot, things fell apart and you were looking for someone to fuck? I'm sure you could have found _that_ in New York. Why did you have to…you can't just…," this time she can't finish her own sentence.

"It wasn't like that! I never wanted to hurt you! Not once," he says, his tone softens towards the end. "I realize that I did, but…," he starts again, but she cuts him off.

"You know what? This is pointless," she says, turning away from him, hoping that he'll show himself out.

"No, wait. What about you?" he asks quietly and this makes her turn back to face him. "You kept making sure I know that you don't trust my decisions, the way I work, anything, from the very beginning, you didn't even give me a chance. You think that what happened to Sarah is my fault. But what about you?" he challenges, taking a few steps in her direction.

"What _about_ me? I wanted to focus on this case, I kept warning you. I told you that you were off and you probably knew it yourself, and that's why you kept trying to turn this over on me. You lost it, Elliot." Her eyes lock with his now.

"I lost it? You know what, I wanted the truth, so I'll start," he says and takes another step. "I fucked up big time, ok? I realize that and I admit it, and if I could, I would have changed that. All of it." His breathing becomes faster and he stops for a moment. "I'm _so_ sorry, you have _no_ idea…" he says in a quieter, softer tone and then stops again, his teeth grit. "But what about you, Liv? Your attitude in this case wasn't just about work, right?" he gravels and when she doesn't answer he continues. "It was about me and..."

"It was about you and her only because I could see that you weren't thinking with your brain." She spits the words.

"You weren't thinking with yours either. You wanted it just as much as…,"

"Wanted _what_?" she demands, because she's not going to give him the satisfaction. Not again. And she knows he's telling her something here, while demanding something of her here, but she's not going to cave. She can't.

He takes another step and now he's close, and she can't forget what happened the last time they were in such proximity. "Look me in the eye and tell me it was a mistake, Liv, that you didn't want it." His voice timbres low, it's more gravelly than usual, his head is craned and his eyes move between hers.

She fixes her eyes on his. "Go away, Elliot," she says quietly, bitingly. "I'm sure you can find someone to fuck in the bar downstairs or the nearest room for that matter."

"Why don't you just admit it?" He quietly insists, ignoring her blatant effort at diverting it all back at him.

She's silent.

"Why can't you just _say_ it?" he demands, his voice rising a bit.

"Say it? Say _what?"_ She plays the dumb. _"You're_ preaching me now about _talking,_ the poster boy for suppression? Shouldn't you be recommending me to hit someone to a pulp?" she mocks with a small lop sided smirk.

He's hurt and she can clearly see it. She's using what she knows about him against him. His weakest point. Isn't this what he's done to her too? Used her weakest point against her? Besides, what happens if she finally admits what he wants her to admit? Then what? What will he admit in return? Haven't they inadvertently revealed enough?

"Good. I asked for the truth. Thanks for your honesty," he rasps, his eyes icy blue. "This is why I never…you and I…"

She can't speak because he's too close to the core of the pain, but she has to know. "You and I, what?" she asks and her voice comes out steady but hoarse.

He chews on his bottom lip before he speaks. "We _burn_ everything," he replies in that low gravelly voice, bringing his face slightly closer to hers and then shifting his head back.

The truth. Finally.

Now she knows. It leaves her wordless. They both gaze at each other, silent, their eyes piercing with realizations and more questions.

A few beats pass and then she finds her voice again. It's a bit hoarse, low, yet steady. "And you thought we could just leave this behind, fix it."

"Yeah, how 'bout that?" he says lowly. "Good night, Olivia."

He then turns around and right before he quits her room, their eyes meet for a brief moment and the Elliot she knows finally blazes from them, when he closes the door behind him, leaving her to cope with the end.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

 ** _She clenches around him everywhere, rippling against him over and over, feeling him flexing inside and above her, huffing hard breaths against her skin and grunting, as he's coming inside her._**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** If you've never succumbed to something your very existence wanted for a long time and were willing to pay the price, don't continue reading.

To L, for being so insightful.

 **Chapter 12:**

Only it doesn't end. She wishes it were the end and that she'd never have to see him again. But it doesn't work like that, not in her fucked up life. In her life, shit storms happen often and she has to face them and continue working.

So the next morning she takes a silent ride with Elliot and Lori to the FBI's offices to get ready for the meeting between Elliot and Vicky. She has no idea where Elliot has spent the night and she's too numb to care. She only wants to find Sarah and get the hell away from these two.

The entire morning she ensures to evade Elliot's eyes, she speaks to him as little as possible and the funny thing about it is that it makes her speak to Lori more often.

At noon the two women sit at yet another hotel bar, watching Elliot stand up to greet a long-legged woman with a pretty Slavic face. "I'm Mark Lawler," he introduces himself, helping her take a seat.

Very soon Vicky starts taking their conversation into a blatant flirty route and Olivia and Lori can hear her through the mic that is hidden under Elliot's tie.

He plays the game well, though they can see him moving uncomfortably in his chair when Vicky slides her palm over his thigh.

After a while, Vicky moves her head close to his and Lori and Olivia can clearly hear her words, spoken in a low rasp. "I bet you're naked under these clothes. _I_ am," she teases, smiling, her hand sliding up and down Elliot's thigh.

And though the woman is a pro that only wants to close the deal asap so that she could soon get ready for her evening date, Olivia can't stop the image that crosses her mind. She felt what's under Elliot's clothes, she found what's hidden between the buttons of his shirt. There were so many layers that separated them and all she wanted, despite herself, was to get to the man inside, to touch him. And she did.

And so has Lori. Lori, who sits next to her, her eyes suddenly glued to her glass of soda water.

A shit-eating grin spreads across Elliot's face at the woman's blunt words, and his hand shoots down, grabbing her palm that is sliding across his thigh. He locks a grip on it and stops its motion. The woman's head tilts back in surprise, the teasing smile on her face gone.

"Let's leave that aside," Olivia hears him rasp. "Tell me where Sarah is, Vicky."

The woman tries to release her hand from his firm grasp.

"Who?" she asks.

"Vicky, we're NYPD. We know you know where she is. The place is full with cops," he half-whispers. His eyes start roaming the room when he adds "just take a look around you."

The frightened Vicky looks around, moving her head slowly. When her eyes fall on Olivia and Lori, they both slightly nod at her. Her head shoots back to Elliot. "I don't know any Sarah," she says urgently.

"Yes, you do, and you're gonna tell me where she is," Elliot replies, still holding her hand firmly. "We're not after you, Vicky, we're worried about Sarah. There are people that want her dead and we want to help her. We're going to walk out of here, hand in hand, and you're going to tell us where Sarah is and then we'll let you go. Nothing bad will happen to her, or to you. I promise." His tone softens.

The woman nods nervously. They get up and start walking towards the exit, Elliot gripping, though not too strongly, Vicky's arm. Olivia and Lori follow, and it doesn't harm that at that exact moment, two men in suits also get up to leave, further convincing Vicky that the place is swarming with undercover cops.

Next to the car, Olivia flashes her badge in front of Vicky, to reassure her that they're not kidnapping her. Inside the car they assure Vicky that they won't expose her, that they're trying to protect Sarah from the organization that brought her to the US and catch the perpetrators. She reluctantly agrees to cooperate and provides some useful info on the way they work, in addition to telling them where they might find Sarah.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

Like they already suspected, she's not in Vicky's apartment anymore. A Ukrainian man Vicky knows has agreed to hide and bodyguard Sarah till she feels safe enough from Nikita and his bosses, which might never happen. Vicky admitted to them that he might actually belong to a rivaling organization, but that was the best she could do for Sarah when she arrived at her apartment a few days earlier, frightened, slightly wounded, after she had somehow escaped her captors and had been directed to her by Penny. They hold Vicky with the help of the local SVU to ensure she doesn't warn the man if they let her go. She doesn't know where he stays, but she knows his phone number and now they need to locate him.

Which is not easy. He uses a disposable phone, and an old one too, such that doesn't even have internet connection through which they had better chances to trace him. They spend a whole day in this pursuit, each having a different task, convening every now and then to compare notes. At night Lori offers that they'll renew the work in the morning, since they're all too drained to continue. A local night shift researcher at the FBI is left with the few traces they managed to collect and is tasked with continuing with it until the morning.

"Wanna grab dinner?" Lori asks before they leave for the hotel, her eyes moving between them, but lingering on Elliot's face.

There's a pause in which Olivia internally thinks _over my dead body_ , but then both she and Elliot speak at the same time. "I'm gonna turn in," she says, while he says at the exact moment "I'll pass, too beat."

"We don't have to, that's fine, we can grab something from the machine," Lori then says, her voice a faked mirth and Olivia just wants to get the hell away from the two of them, she's had her own share of fucked up, she doesn't need theirs too.

Their conversation during the drive to the hotel at night revolves around the case. There's a tensed silence when they get sandwiches and sodas from the vending machines and take the elevator to the second floor together, muttering goodnight as each opens the door to their own respective rooms, which are a few doors apart along the corridor.

Half an hour later, Olivia is leaning against the pillows on the bed in the simple small room that holds a bed, two nightstands, a vanity that is also a desk, with the hotel's brochure and a cheap plastic pen on it, a narrow mirror hanging above it and a broader TV screen next to it, now turned on NBC and muted, and a plainly designed bathroom near the entrance. She's idly drinking her soda, her gaze fixed on her phone screen as she's reading emails and searching the US Census website for facts and figures about the legal immigration from the Ukraine and former USSR and the estimated illegal one.

A rap at the door startles her. "Goddammit," she hisses, leaving her phone on the bed.

"That's become a habit, Elliot, don't you think?" she asks when she opens the door to find him standing outside her room.

"Funny." His face is stern.

"What do you want _now_? Don't we just need to finish this case and put it behind us?" she asks mockingly, one eyebrow raised, but not a hint of a smile on her face. Now that they're off work she can let go of the professional façade she's clung to all day. The things they've admitted to each other have hung over her the entire day and she worked hard not to let their aching meaning penetrate her.

"If you listened…," he starts.

"I did," she cuts him mid-sentence.

"No, you didn't, you're not. You keep cutting me off, diverting the conversation, thinking you know what I'm gonna say next, but you don't, Olivia, not always," he says, trying to hold her gaze.

Shrugging, she then turns and walks back into the room, picking the remote control from the bedside and turns the TV off, speaking while she does. "Maybe because when we do talk, things tend to get worse. Or maybe it's just my inferiority complex that clouds my judgment, I don't know," she shrugs again, her face contorting in contempt.

He's standing in the middle of the room. She's doing it again, changing the subject, she doesn't want to hear what he has to say. _They burn everything._

"I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry," he replies.

"Yes, we've already established that. And my inferiority complex aside, my judgment wasn't clouded, right, Elliot?" she moves from the bedside towards him, letting him hold her gaze. She stops, a few feet between them. He's wearing a pair of jeans and a long sleeved grey cotton v-neck tee. He must have changed from his suit after they got back to the hotel.

"No, you saw things right when they were about me, but you didn't see yourself, Liv."

He's wrong, because she's seen herself quite clearly throughout, and she knew all along that part of her behavior wasn't about the case. But she wasn't going to admit it. "Right," she ends up muttering.

"Yes, right. Your judgment _was_ biased, even before I'd had a chance to screw up, but you just won't admit it."

Right again, but he's gotten enough truths out of her lately, she's not going to give him any more. "Well, turns out I was right," she then says. "You trusted the Feds to do our job, and look where this has gotten us. We're stuck in another city, dependent on them. Maybe we could have found Sarah sooner, in New York."

"Maybe. Don't you think I blame myself too?"

She knows he is. She knows how he takes the blame even when he shouldn't, and usually she's the one who helps him carry the weight, but not this time. She's rubbing his nose in it way too deep, way too long. She knows it, but she can't help herself, because, yes, he's right, it's not only about work.

"So what do you want, Elliot?" she asks, ignoring his confession. Her eyes dart towards the door and his follow her glance.

"To make a few things clear," he says sternly, taking a few steps in her direction, which in the small space mean that he's standing right in front of her, blue eyes and grey cotton t-shirt and all. "If you'd listened yesterday, I wouldn't have to be here now," he adds as if clarifying that he knows she wants him gone.

"You can leave, I didn't invite you," she says, sidestepping him, trying to create some distance between them. But then his words stop her and she's still very close.

"If you listened, I would've told you that I'd change a lot in what happened. But I didn't drive upstate to…it wasn't about fu…it wasn't like that," he says, his voice dropping low and not uttering the word she used loudly yesterday. "I'm sorry about the way I acted throughout, I thought I was handling the case right, I'd never risk a case knowingly. And I know nothing I say now can change the fact that I've hurt you, the damage I caused, but I wish I could change it, fix it, make you trust me again. I wanted you to know that." She wishes she could avert her gaze, because his eyes are caverns of blue, of truth, and her mouth runs dry. It'd be easier if he didn't tell her all of this.

"Ok, I get it," she says flatly, belligerently, finally forcing herself to avert her eyes from the rue in his.

"Do you?" he asks, clearly realizing what she's doing.

They're facing each other and she realizes that they're in a hotel room with the door closed, a bed right next to them and a recent history of broken boundaries behind them.

The thought causes her stomach to plummet, an unwelcome familiar ache to shoot down to her lower belly.

"What do you want from me, Elliot?" she asks, tired, taking a step back, putting a bit more distance between them.

He sighs, his gaze darts away and then returns to her. "The truth." He's obviously tired of this too.

"Again? Why? What for?" she raises her voice. "You kept saying that you already _know_ the truth but that you only want me to _say_ it. So here goes – I get that you're sorry now, but you were sorry only after your case was screwed. You didn't see me before that…"

"It wasn't because Nikita died, I just came to a point where…I realized too late…," he starts and they speak at the same time now, cutting into each other's words. "You just kept…," she continues while he does too with "I wish I hadn't…" and she with "…going without thinking…" and he continues with "Tell me how to make this right!" The last part of his sentence is expelled in a raised voice and on a short breath.

"…and you're probably in the wrong room now," she goes on, but she's the only one speaking now, "because your girlfriend is in one of the next rooms and I don't know what you're doing here."

"She's not my girlfriend," he utters brashly.

"So your fuck buddy, whatever," she says in a tone that is the vocal equivalent to eye rolling.

"Why do you care so much, Liv?" he then asks, taking a step closer to her again, and she can smell his shirt, his skin. She should have known that he could bounce back and meet her challenge with a challenge. "If this is only about the case, and I've already admitted my fault in it, if this is the whole truth, then why does it matter?" When she's quiet he takes another step and their breaths are intermixing. "Because it's not, is it?"

Hasn't he extricated that truth out of her already, by touching her and making her respond the way she did? She already armed him with the answer to this question, and in a way he's answered it too. _This is why I never..._

"It is about the case," she insists.

"Not entirely and we both know it," he says, his eyes piercing hers, his voice several decibels lower.

"So if you know it already, what do you need me to tell you?" She swallows though she feels her mouth is dry.

He's chewing on his bottom lip, his tongue wets it. "That it wasn't a mistake."

Her heart misses a beat. "You said it yourself, it was never a good idea."

"But I never said I regretted it," he replies and his voice is low enough for her to feel its vibration against her as much as she hears it, because his chest is now touching hers. His eyes and words have distracted her and she didn't realize they were completely closing the distance between them.

And there's no one and nothing she can blame when she succumbs a second time to that perpetual need, that try as hard as she might, she can't forego. There's no one and nothing to blame now, but herself, because the glare they had fixed on each other has slipped, in synch, to the other's lips and from there it was mere inches for their lips to collide forcefully, and despite herself she wants it and she can't stop it, and worse – she's willing to pay the price that this will surely cost her.

He's holding her, his lips hard on hers, his tongue in her mouth, treating it as its own. Hers does the same in his mouth, hungrily, angrily. His taste and smell fill her, his hard body against her. And this is how it feels - all the times she wondered how it'd be, all the times she wanted to fuck the anger and frustration out with him – smoothing her palms over his biceps, his tattoos, his chest, grazing her nails across his back. It all pools between her legs.

Elliot is backing her up to the desk, her back arches as he leans his weight in, his mouth latched on hers and they drink each other's taste. His hands are locked on her body, pressing her to him, but hers roam his body, touching him through his clothes, holding on to the hard plains that his shirt hides.

Her back aches from the unnatural posture and she pushes forward and Elliot straightens up with her, and she half sits on the desk, his pelvis pushing her legs apart to accommodate the width of his body. Her lower half is compressed against Elliot's, and Olivia can feel him hard against her through their clothes. They're instinctively grinding against each other while devouring one another.

Elliot's right hand rakes over her shoulder, up to her neck, his fingers splay on her cheek, melding her mouth further to his, and then down over her neck and clavicle, stopping at her right breast. He's cupping it and pressing it through her shirt, and she moans into his mouth. Her nipples are erect, and so is every other part of her that has nerves in it, her body is fully awaken to Elliot's touch and taste.

They're breathing loud and hard and Elliot releases her mouth only to smooth his over her jaw. "Christ, Olivia," he whispers into her ear before his mouth slides down her neck and throat, causing her to lean back towards the Vanity mirror behind her. She uses the opportunity to slide her hands into the back of his shirt and touch his warm skin and the firm muscles that flex and tense with his movements, while he's devouring her with his hands and caressing her with his lips.

She knows what she's doing when her hands then sneak around his torso, reaching for his belt and zipper, undoing them along with the button of his jeans. She knows, but mistake or no mistake, she doesn't care. Not anymore. Not right now. Elliot pulls himself back for a short moment and takes his shirt off in one pull, and she has him shirtless right there in her arms.

The feeling of his warm hard chest under her palms should be reminding her of the truths they've revealed, the ones they're cementing right now, but it does so only vaguely, because the rest of her is savoring the body she's craved. Elliot storms back to hold her, his mouth on hers, sliding his hands into her shirt, pushing it up to her armpits and neck and all she has to do is bring her arms up and the shirt is off of her too. Elliot trails his mouth and both his hands to her chest, and she has to grab the desk so she wouldn't fall off it. He kisses her exposed skin. He doesn't bother to remove her bra, but brings both straps down her shoulders and pushes the cups down and his hands are now on her naked breasts, his mouth follows suit and he rubs and licks and sucks the mounds of soft flesh and the pebbled nipples.

"Ungh, Elliot," she moans quietly, and the strangeness of his name on her lips pokes a little hole in the haze she's in, but she's too far in, too far to stop grinding against his hard cock which is still inside his pants though they're unbuckled and unbuttoned and unzipped and she yearns to feel it. Elliot answers her need and slides his hands down her back and into her pants, cupping the upper part of her ass, pressing her further to him. He's holding her and now she can stop clutching the desk, so she uses the opportunity to unzip her own pants. Elliot then pushes it down for her, along with her panties, while she grabs his jeans, pulling it down too. She kicks one of her pant sleeves completely off to enable herself the flexibility she'll soon need. All the while their mouths are on each other, kissing and tasting some part of exposed skin, whether it's a neck or a throat or a jaw or a shoulder.

There's a bed right there behind them, but they're blind to everything around them. They're too focused on each other, on urgently helping one another out of their clothes, on reaching, revealing, exposing, on touching and tasting and being, on forgetting and submerging and existing.

Elliot's naked pelvis is pushed against hers and the touch is so intense, too intense almost. Her palms slide up his chest, then cup his face as she brings his mouth to hers again. Elliot slips his hands under her naked thighs and slightly raises her body up against him. With her eyes closed and her mouth on his, she knows what's next and just the thought makes her moan into his mouth. When he brings her down again, it's along his cock as he's penetrating her.

Her arms hold on to his neck and Elliot pushes deeper into her, his palms cupping her backside, giving him the lever to sink deep inside her. Their muffled gasps at the sensation of it warm up their prolonged kiss.

Her breasts are pressed to his chest, one of her arms encircles his neck for support, while the other slides in the no-space between them, her palm smoothing over his pectorals, then across his back and shoulders and then down along the side of his chest, feeling his ridged muscles under her palm, while feeling him moving inside her, and their mouths are infused to each other's taste.

They're both panting when Elliot releases her mouth so they could breathe. His face buries in her hair and he whispers her name in her ear and she moans into his neck. His thrusts become slightly faster and harder and she links both her arms over his neck again.

In this posture he's rubbing against her just the right way, complementing the friction of his hardness inside her. The pleasure inside her is mounting to an almost unbearable height with every thrust, with every brush of his lips and tongue on her skin.

Her fingernails sink into his skin when Elliot picks up the cadence some more and he releases one of his hands from underneath her, his palm weaving into her hair as he cups the back of her head and melds her mouth to his again, and she starts breathing faster, moaning quietly into his mouth, when he brings her up and up and up and up, until she clenches around him everywhere, rippling against him over and over, their warm breaths intermixing, their lips a mere centimeter apart, and she's feeling him flexing inside and above her, huffing hard breaths against her skin and groaning, as he's coming inside her.

It's been so intense, that even when they're done, he still pushes into her, softer thrusts, like the last steps at the end of a run. Gasping, they're holding on to each other, both slightly slick with sweat, allowing the aftershocks consume their bodies. Her head is light from the lack of oxygen, and from the mix of adrenaline, dopamine and Oxytocin that flood her.

And somewhere a grey cloud hovers there too and she can start feeling it damping her consciousness. Olivia squeezes her eyes shut, in an attempt to keep it at bay.

Their bodies are finally still, except for their heaving chests, Elliot's face is buried in her neck and hair, her cheek against his ear and crew cut hair. She doesn't open her eyes, but the cloud starts showering her with questions like 'now what' and accusations like 'how come'.

Just then, Elliot moves the slightest bit and naturally pulls out of her. He removes his hand from under her thigh though his other remains weaved in her hair, his forearm limply resting on her shoulder. He places his now free hand on her lower back, his palm warm on her skin. Olivia lets her arms slowly drop from his neck, her movements causing him to withdraw and release her hair. She uses the opportunity to arrange her bra. With his face still hidden from her, Elliot draws his pants up and then takes a step back, enabling her to get off the desk and quickly wear on hers as well, both buttoning and zipping, aftermathing.

They're standing there close together, shirtless, finally bringing their eyes to each other's face. Her hair is disheveled and they're both still slightly panting.

The silence is stifling.

She's finally done it. What she promised herself she never would, not like that anyway. She _fucked_ Elliot Stabler, anger and frustration were her accomplices, while want and need and yearn hid behind. And a stubborn, unkillable love that has survived the years of his marriage and the months since his divorce.

She's not sure what she sees in his hazy eyes, maybe they mirror her same feelings. Maybe they mirror her same thoughts, that this is them, burning everything. Just like he said they would. Just like she knew deep down they could.

"Liv," Elliot then starts, his eyes finding hers, his palm brought forward, splaying across her cheek and ear, the tips of his fingers drowning in her hair.

"Get out of here," she says, before he has a chance to continue, her voice gravelly, tilting her head so that his hand falls to his side.

He's got her truth now. She got his. _Let it burn then._

He doesn't say a word, his eyes pierce hers, his jaw muscle flexes, and he only slightly nods his head.

"Have it your way, Liv," he then says in a low timbre.

He grabs his shirt from the floor and wears it on, while turning and walking to the door, and their eyes meet once again for a brief second when he closes it behind him.

Moments later, her legs lead her to the shower, to wash away Elliot's smell and touch, his kisses and his semen, hoping that her love for him, that clutches her still, will drown and vanish with it.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N : **Thank you all for the reviews! You floored me, really, seriously. You made my entire week, got me through what was otherwise a pretty lousy week :)

 _"For you I'd bleed myself dry". Coldplay – Yellow._

 **Chapter 13:**

A phone ringing wakes her up. It takes her a moment to figure out that it's her cellphone and another to realize where she is.

"Yes," she picks up the call hoarsely, squinting at the grey morning sun that peeps through the curtains.

"We've got an address," she hears Lori's voice. "Meet you downstairs in fifteen?"

"Yes. Warrant?" Olivia asks.

"A federal one," Lori replies.

7:15am, the clock on her phone reads and Olivia scrambles out of the hotel bed. She washes her face and takes a look at herself in the mirror and her cheeks flush despite the cold water, when the heaviness in her chest and stomach translates into a vivid memory of what she's done last night.

Ten minutes later, in the lobby, she meets the man to whom she owes half of the dark circles around her eyes, the fist that clenches her heart and the slight soreness between her legs.

Dry 'good morning's are exchanged between all of them and then, without directly looking at her face, Elliot, in a short sleeved dress shirt and no tie, clean shaven and stony, hands her a paper cup with a plastic lid. She hesitates a moment before reaching and taking the warm coffee from him, their fingers barely brushing. "Thanks," she mutters. She wanted to resist, but it'd be childish and stupid, and besides, she desperately needs coffee right now.

The three of them start for the parking lot. She walks a few steps behind, letting Lori's energetic stride lead the way to the car and Elliot, whose profile she can see because he's slowing his pace a bit for her, as if he realizes she's trying to remain in the back on purpose and he won't let her.

They drive towards the address Lori has and in between the few sentences that are uttered about the location, how it was found by the FBI night-shift researcher and their plan once they reach it, Olivia has time to think about the 'now what' and the 'how come' that lingered on her mind since last night.

They're on borrowed time now. She can't work with Elliot, not anymore. They fucking made each other come, whispered each other's names, he was inside her and they were connected like never before and then she kicked him out and he left while she still dripped his fluids. They can't continue as usual, it's irreversible now. And she had known it all along, yet still, throughout, she blocked everything, willing herself into oblivion. Even when she moaned his name, that is practically embedded within her, against his lips, she resisted the knowledge that she'd used this name on the radio, on DD5s, in conversations, confessions and arguments, that he'd been other things for her too – because once they touched, none of that existed anymore, it was all primal and raw. She didn't see the partner, the cop, the friend that he used to be, the one that had recently pretty much forsook her and killed her slowly with his words and then desperately tried to rectify it. All she saw was the man she wanted. And all she wanted, when the truth was clear to her, was to satiate over-a-decade worth of emotional and physical yearn. She was willing to take it, to burn it all, and now she'll have to live with it, pay the price she vouched for last night.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

There's no one in the apartment that is actually not too far from Vicky's, so they break in and enter. Elliot has knocked down the door on the second attempt, and Olivia dejectedly thought that a few weeks ago, this could had been enough for her to be hyper alert to his physique, but not now, ironically - not after what had passed between them. She's done with that. She's a cop, she has a mission and this is all that matters right now.

When they're finally in, they carefully peak into the rooms with their guns drawn, covering each other's backs, calling "Clear" whenever a room is asserted as vacant, and then meeting in the living room again, they spread once more, each starts searching a different area of the apartment.

Elliot, who searches the living room, ensures to close the apartment door behind them. For ten minutes they're opening closets, rummaging through dressers, drawers and bathroom and kitchen cabinets, flipping mattresses and fumbling through clothes, picking up different items and messing up the place in general.

"He's a pretty organized guy," Elliot mutters when Lori and Olivia both return to the living room, after finishing searching the rooms. "Too organized maybe."

"There's a woman living here," Olivia replies. "I found clothes and tampons."

Lori takes pictures with the camera of her cellphone of a few photos that are scattered in a drawer in the living room. "I don't see any woman in these pictures," she chimes in, "but these pictures could be useful for us later on if Roman is part of a rivaling orga..."

Before she has a chance to finish the sentence, the door is flung open and they freeze. A tall, big man stands at the doorstep, his face pockmarked, holding a handgun that is directed at them. "Who are you, fuckers?" he calls with a heavy accent.

"FBI," Lori says, displaying her palms in front of her.

Elliot and Olivia exchange glances, and Elliot, who stands further away from the door, slowly slides his right hand down, towards his Glock.

"Roman, we're not here for you. We want Sarah. Where is she?" Olivia asks, drawing the man's attention to her.

"Fuck you," Roman shouts and suddenly he bolts back, towards the staircase.

It takes the three of them a second to start after him, retrieving their guns as they run.

Roman is one floor below them, Elliot is closing the distance but he gets away and they reach the building's dingy lobby when the front door slams behind him. They chase him outside and he turns into a maze of little alleys. They spread around, keeping eye and voice contact with each other.

They reach a long, dead end alley. They're all slightly heaving, their eyes roaming the alley, their guns pointed at different corners of it, as they progress further in, along one of the walls. They're quiet, trying to make the sound of a human from behind the various garbage containers, crates and even a rusty washing machine that lays on its side at the far end.

Olivia can hear her own pulse in her ears, her shallow breaths. Her palms are sweating around her Glock. Elliot walks a few steps in front of her and Lori, who is next to her, to her left. They advance only a few steps into the alley, but Roman is there, she can feel him.

"Roman, show yourself," Lori shouts.

"We're not here to get you, you're not in trouble, we're looking for Sarah," Olivia calls out, her voice a bit chocked.

She then hears a low grinding sound, a click is heard, and it can only be measured in nanoseconds, but they all recognize the sound – a bullet is leaving the muzzle of Roman's Smith and Wesson.

Before she has a chance to register it, she hears Elliot's shout.

"LIV," he bellows while pivoting towards her and Lori, throwing his body forward, to his left, crashing Olivia down to the ground, just as a loud explosion reverberates between the alley walls.

A second shot is heard right after and then a third, right next to her. All she knows is that Elliot's body is pressing her to the asphalt, that her face is buried under his chest, that one of his palms is buffering the back of her head from the hard surface beneath her, and that her Glock has slid from her hand a few inches out of reach. She doesn't feel pain except for her shoulder that hit the ground when Elliot's weight pinned her down. Elliot then moves on top of her, a strained, urgent "Liv, you ok, Liv?" escapes his lips and he veers his head to look at her as she's pressed under him. Their eyes meet.

It all takes seconds, split seconds. She hears Lori to her left. She threw herself on the ground too and managed to fire her gun towards Roman's estimated location, this was the third shot she heard, that ended up missing him. In the mess that ensues they can also hear him running towards them.

"Stop!" Lori shouts, and when his footsteps are past them, a second later, Elliot rolls over from Olivia, and, heaving, they both change their positions, she's picking up her weapon and they're pointing their firearms at Roman's new direction.

They both shoot but their bullets hit the metal of a garbage container. They all manage to advance back towards the alley entrance, now ducking along the wall. Roman is hiding again and Elliot then lifts himself, still half-stooping, he takes a few steps forward, "we weren't after you, Roman, you're shooting at the FBI and the Police, you big idiot," he calls, his voice hoarse, his breath short.

Another shot that reverberates through the alley - making them all duck down again and Elliot to reach his left arm behind him and pin Olivia's shoulder to the wall - is Roman's reply. Elliot then fires his gun, while Olivia and Lori cover for him from behind. They hear it when Roman takes the bullet.

Two seconds later, the three of them are standing around him, their guns pointed at him, as he lies behind a large metal garbage container, pressing his hands to his wounded stomach. His gun is thrown on the ground, not far from him.

Olivia and Elliot's eyes cross paths before they quickly avert their gazes, looking at Roman again. They hear sirens approaching, the shooting spree has made someone call the local Police.

"Why did you shoot, Roman?" Olivia asks, her voice strangled. "We weren't after you. Where's Sarah? What have you done with her?"

Roman just looks at them defiantly and doesn't respond. He's not severely wounded, they can see it, and he's keeping silent probably because he's afraid of incriminating himself for other things. "FBI, you're under arrest," Lori then says, short of breath. Elliot and Olivia exchange quick glances again before they return their firearms into their holsters to the screeching sound of tires behind them.

Elliot turns around then. "FBI and NYPD," he says to the approaching cops, flashing his badge at them. "Call a bus, we have a wounded suspect."

They step aside, avoiding further eye contact and letting the local police and Lori make the arrest.

Olivia moves to lean against the alley wall, still slightly panting, and Elliot follows suit. "You ok?" he asks her under the sounds of the local squad car radios and the voices of Lori and the two uniform cops.

"Yeah," she replies, and they look at each other but their gazes don't meet. Their chests are still somewhat heaving. "You?" she then asks.

"Fine," he replies, his eyes looking away from her. When she lowers her gaze she notices that the back of his left hand is scratched, the skin slightly torn and flecked with blood where the asphalt chafed it as he slid his palm under her head when he pushed her to the ground.

She averts her eyes. She can't think about this right now, to confront the full meaning of what has just happened, of what he's just done, and from the look of him – he can't either.

The arrival of the ambulance is a distraction. They both move towards Lori, who stands by the cot Roman is on. "Where's Sarah, Roman?" Olivia asks again when she sees that the man is conscious enough to curse the cops and paramedics that surround him.

"See you in hell," he spits in a heavy accent to all of them before he's rolled into the ambulance.

"He almost escaped back there. What were you thinking?" Lori asks harshly, her eyes on Elliot, a red glow rising from her throat to her face. When Elliot doesn't reply she diverts her eyes. "I'll ride with him," she then says, her tone flat, her eyes empty. "It's an FBI arrest. I'll call you."

Somewhat to her surprise, Olivia sees Elliot slightly bobbing his head. "Let me know when he's ready to talk," he only says, to which Lori doesn't reply. Their eyes never meet.

"You two need a ride?" one of the cops asks them when the ambulance drives away.

"No, we have a car nearby," Elliot replies.

"You need our details?" Olivia asks.

"Actually, yes," the cop responds and they give him their names, ranks and badge numbers before they start walking back towards Roman's street, where they've left the car they came in.

They walk side by side, their steps in synch, and not a syllable is uttered between them.

When they enter the car, Elliot into the driver's seat and Olivia into the passenger's side, Elliot puts the key in the ignition, but his hand freezes on it, and they both just sit there, staring through the front windshield.

She knows that they're both thinking about the same thing.

"It was an instinct," he suddenly says. "I didn't know where it was going to hit," he adds, mumbling, as if he's saying this to himself.

She has no idea what she's supposed to say. He's just answered the questions that managed to surface in her head, when she'd allowed them - did he think he knew where the bullet was going to hit, did he think she was going to take it, or did he think she couldn't protect herself or do her job just as well as he or Lori could?

"Liv," he suddenly says after a moment of silence, and they both turn their heads and their eyes meet.

"I had my gun drawn, Elliot, I could have shot you by accident," she says before he can continue speaking.

"I know," he replies. "I wasn't thinking."

She's silent for a while and their gazes return to the windshield.

"I know you were about to take a shot," he then adds. "You didn't need me to do that. I'm sorry."

"It's ok. Let's just go," she says, quietly.

She briefly feels his eyes on her when he starts the engine.

He drives to the FBI offices and she turns on the navigator on her phone, and that's the only voice that is heard in the car. Right before they reach their destination, twenty minutes later, Elliot's phone rings. He answers it on speaker and it's Lori. She has Sarah's hiding place. Roman spoke.

They change their route while Olivia updates the local SVU and her own Captain.

By 3pm that day, they have Sarah, alive and well, though frightened and reluctant to cooperate. The three of them meet at the FBI offices, where they talk to Sarah and gently try to get initial details on the other women, on Nikita and possibly the man that killed him, but she's too frightened and confused to help them.

"She's not gonna talk now," Olivia says when they step out of the interview room to decide on how to proceed. "There's three of us, for God's sake."

"We need this info while it's fresh," Lori replies "we've lost enough time as it is."

 _And whose fault is it?_ Olivia wants to retort. "She's a victim, not a suspect," Olivia reminds Lori instead, the expression on her face adds to the reproach in her tone of voice.

"So what do you suggest?" Lori asks impatiently.

"Let Olivia talk to her alone," Elliot then says. "Out of the three of us she's the only one who somehow managed to establish rapport with her."

The back of his hand is now washed of blood, but the skin is visibly torn and scratched and he absentmindedly rubs it with his right palm.

"Sarah originally escaped from the hospital after talking to her," Lori spits and Olivia's blood starts boiling again.

She doesn't trust herself with words right now, but even before she has a chance to reply, Elliot speaks. "Talking to victims is what we do everyday. Olivia will get through to her," he says calmly and Olivia stares at him for a moment.

A beat of hesitation passes and then Lori just motions a 'be my guest' with her hand and Olivia leaves the two of them and enters the interview room.

Slowly but surely, Sarah starts opening up to her, giving her some of the info they needed, and by 8pm Olivia feels that she's not going to get anymore from her and that they should continue another day. She steps out of the room to talk to Elliot and Lori, who were listening in from the other side of a mirror.

"I think we should get her back to New York and continue questioning her tomorrow," she says. "She's had enough for today. Do you have a shuttle that leaves tonight for New York?"

"Yes, but I have to stay here. I need to see what more I can get out of Roman and Vicky," Lori replies. "I can get you seats on the shuttle," she adds, moving her eyes between Elliot and Olivia.

"Thanks. We can meet when you get back, I'll continue with her in the meanwhile. I'll ensure she's taken care of tonight, placed in a maximum security home," Olivia replies.

Lori then walks away to arrange for the shuttle and Elliot and Olivia remain to stand alone outside the interrogation room.

The previous night in her hotel room and even that morning in the alley - it all seems like a light year away. And now they stand here alone again, face to face, and a moment passes before they bring their eyes to each other.

When they finally do, Olivia prays for this day to be over already so that she could be back in New York, closing this case, going home, dealing with what's next. For now she's happy with keeping these memories a light year away.

"I'll drive you and Sarah to the airport and make sure Cragen meets you when you land in New York," Elliot then says. "I'll stay here and finish some things. Will you be ok?"

Although she should have somewhat expected this, Olivia is a bit surprised. They found Sarah, they need to focus on her now, this is what they came here for. He has no business continuing with Roman, Vicky or the bigger organization, and even if by that he could help them find the other women, this should be the FBI's now. This was the agreement they had. He must know this, which means that the reason he's staying is different. It's Lori.

But she doesn't say any of this. "Sure," is the only word that falls from her mouth. It's his business reporting his whereabouts and his reasons for staying to their CO, she's not going to stand in his way. She shouldn't really care.

They arrange everything and by 9:30pm they're at the FBI's shuttle and Elliot is taking leave.

"Call me when you get to New York, so I know that you're both ok?" he asks.

"I'll text you," Olivia agrees, her voice flat.

He lingers and looks at her. She sees words forming on his lips, even his eyes are trying to tell her something. "Good night, Liv," he only says. "I'll see you tomorrow," he adds after a short pause, and of all the things that have happened since yesterday, this is what throws her back to the feeling of his body against her, inside her, his hands, his mouth, and the way he crashed her to the ground at the sound of a bullet.

"Good night," she expels, because that light year has just shrunk back into the 22 hours that have really passed since he knocked on her door last night and the 13 hours that have gone by since he nearly took a bullet for her. And all of this has made their situation irrevocably unbearable, or the other way around, and with him staying in Boston – that light year buffer is a necessity for her as she starts meeting the cost of her self-inflicted havoc.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Happy New Year, everyone! Here's to hoping 2017 brings only good things to all of us!

 **Chapter 14:**

When she's back in her apartment three exhausting hours later, after she met Cragen and they drove Sarah to a safe house, Olivia starts seeing the end of the tunnel. But it's bleak, there's hardly any light at the end of it. They're closer to closing this case and she has to start thinking about what's next or where's next. After a few mostly sleepless nights, she succumbs to sleep with this thought.

The next morning she meets with her Captain again and they drive Sarah to the One-Six. She made him text Elliot when he met her after she'd landed last night. She didn't want to do it herself. She realized that Elliot had managed to talk to Cragen while she was still flying, because Cragen was already up to date with Elliot's remaining in Boston and even seemed ok with it. "I want to cover every option that will help us understand what happened to these other women," her Captain told her, "and I don't want the FBI to kick us out of this so fast."

"Should we wait for Elliot and Lori, or start taking Sarah's statement?" she asks him now.

"Start. I don't know when they're going to get back here exactly and I don't want to lose time," is her CO's reply.

A few hours go by in which Sarah reveals everything she knows about the way Maria died and why she had to escape.

Olivia is with her in the room, stepping outside every now and then to consult with Cragen, bring a cup of tea for Sarah or escort her to the bathroom.

Basically, both Sarah and Maria knew why they were coming to the United States. With their background, it was actually an upgrade in comparison to what was awaiting for them at home. They worked as escorts for two years in which they'd learnt enough about their employers and their own illegal status, to realize that they were getting less than 50% of their hard earned money as well as being unable to decide which clients to accept, to want to break away and start on their own, preferably away from prostitution altogether.

After Maria had died, Sarah kept silent and continued as usual for several months, knowing that their efforts to leave had brought on Maria's death. When she thought she had a chance, she tried to disappear from the tiny apartment they shared, but was soon caught, beaten and raped as a warning. In the hospital she realized that having the Police over was going to make her situation worse, while it gave her a tiny window of opportunity to escape, so she fled. She hid in several places, and in one dreadful night, she trusted the wrong person, who led her right back into the hands of her former employers. It was only then that she met someone from the higher ranks of the organization in person. Up till then she only knew the thugs that were in charge of keeping her and her friends in order. The bosses were furious, one of theirs, Nikita, was held by the FBI. It was only then that she learnt that they had tried to sell Maria and that they were planning to do the same with her. She didn't know if they did this to frighten her or not, but they brought in 'potential buyers' to take her for a 'test ride'. It was then that she escaped once again. She convinced one of these men to take her to his place, where she stabbed him in the groin with a pair of scissors. Having heard of Penny before, she found her out and she helped her to get to Boston. She stayed under the radar from fear of the men that she knew were chasing her and from the Police for stabbing that man.

She didn't know whose apartment she was kept in, she didn't know Nikita, she didn't even know his colleagues and couldn't share details about how they operated the organization, because she was just one tiny peon in it. "Just the mattress," she said, tears streaming down her face.

Olivia showed her the pictures of the women they found on I'llfixya's website, but Sarah recognized only Vera, she didn't know who the others were or what happened to Vera. Writing down the names of the women and thugs Sarah came across in her two years of work for that Ukrainian mafia, Olivia then leaves her alone in the interview room.

It's after 2pm when she steps outside to find Elliot there, standing by the mirror overlooking the Interview room with Cragen. Her head imperceptibly tilts back in surprise. Most of the time she was in the room with Sarah, she forgot about him, about Lori, about herself. There were a few times, when she needed to consult, that a ghost of a thought crossed her mind, _if Elliot were here_ , or when she raised her eyes and there was no one there to meet her gaze, to share the burden, to wordlessly understand.

"Got back an hour ago," he says, answering her unasked question. "You did…you got a lot from her."

"We thought it'd be better to let you continue alone with her," Cragen then adds.

"I don't think she has any more info for us," Olivia replies. "Did you manage to find anything else from Vicky or Roman?" she turns her eyes to Elliot.

"Some. Lori's still there, trying to get more," he replies, his eyes fixed on her.

"Great." She then sighs while saying "we have a few more names, locations and MO to find more of…Sarah's colleagues and question them, they might be able to shed more light on their bosses, the other women, how it all worked."

"Don't lose time," Cragen orders, "take Munch and Tutuola and split into two teams so that each of you can update one of them on the way," and by that he relieves Olivia's concern over being crammed in a car alone with Elliot again. It also makes her wonder if their Captain has just separated them because he too could sense the murky tension between her and Elliot, that to her felt so thick she could lose herself in it.

A few hours later, they bring in and question three women; Olivia with Fin and Elliot with John. By evening they manage to find some more information, though not as much as they were hoping for, because using the Dark Net was not the only precaution the Ukrainians had used, they also divided and conquered pretty much everybody, and the women hardly knew even each other. They also made sure to frighten them from speaking to government officials and the Police especially, so a lot of time was invested in just convincing them to trust them.

She hardly sees Elliot in all these hours. Once or twice they both step outside the Interview rooms at the same time and they exchange quick words and even quicker glances. Once they meet at the coffee corner in a short bio break both teams take in the middle of a long day and each time it's strained and strange and loaded.

Back here, in New York, in their old Squad room, the last three days could have seemed like a figment of her own imagination. The way they touched each other, stripped each other, drank and singed one another. But it was real. It was real and she isn't, and won't be, lacking reminders. Elliot's mere presence is a reminder. His eyes, the way he looks at her, the way he doesn't, his voice, his mouth, his smell, the way his buttoned up shirt clings to his body. She wishes she could just ignore that. She wishes it was all just a dream or a nightmare, because the reality of it, especially here, is frightening.

When they're finally done and the women are driven back to their respective homes by plain-clothed cops who will watch over them in an attempt to protect them and get to the local men that operated them, they sit together to summarize everything. They still haven't found the three other women that appeared on the Dark Net, but with what they got they might be somewhat closer.

After John and Fin return to their own desks, Elliot and Olivia get ready to leave Cragen's office as well. "Close the door, Elliot," Cragen then commands, stopping them in their tracks.

Quick glances are exchanged between them and Elliot shuts the door and remains to stand next to Olivia, both facing their Captain, who is standing in front of his chair at his side of the desk.

Olivia tries to breathe evenly, to disguise the slight heave that her chest has started to exhibit.

"I got a call from Riordan earlier," Cragen starts. "He thought I'd be interested to hear about what happened yesterday in a suspect chase in Boston."

Olivia feels the blood pounding in her ears. She tries her damnest not to tear her eyes off her CO's face and turn them to Elliot, but even without looking at him, she can practically feel his body tensing next to her, she can imagine the muscle that dances in his jaw. She bites the inside of her bottom lip.

"He thought I should know that when a certain behavior from my officers put one of his agents at risk, he was not going to let it go down quietly. Indeed I found it very interesting," he continues dryly, bitingly. "Anything you want to share about the occurrences in Boston?" he asks and a stifling silence follows this question.

The occurrences in Boston…which ones exactly? His officers frantically fucking each other on a hotel room vanity, or his officer literally and figuratively jumping the gun to protect his partner? These thoughts cross both their minds in a visual train that lasts a second, a second too long, and causes an invisible but very palpable heat wave to run through them both.

"Elliot?" Cragen then fixes his eyes on Elliot and Olivia's throat clogs.

"Sir," is all Elliot says, turning to military language, and Olivia realizes just how bad things are. He can stand up to their Captain when he wants to, but not this time. Because this time the boundaries they have outstepped are far worse than ever before.

It's then that she rips her gaze from Cragen and moves it to Elliot's profile. The jaw twitch, the upright stance that is almost a Marine 'At Attention'. He's ready to take the punch, to pay the price, and for the first time in a while, her innate trust in him and her inherent instinct to protect him flood her.

"Agent Garcia wasn't at risk any more than we were, Captain," she says, using the same cautious language. Despite everything, and maybe because of everything, she can't let him go down alone. Not on this score.

"Olivia," Cragen utters her name reproachfully and halts before he continues speaking. "The two of you are way too experienced with this to try and cover up each other's asses right now. You're only making this worse."

"Shots were fired, it was an instinct. I'm sorry if I put anyone at risk. It was my fault, not Olivia's," Elliot then says in a flat tone, his eyes fixed on some point on the wall behind Cragen.

"You damn should be sorry," the Captain replies. A short silent pause ensues before he adds "it's late now, go home, the both of you."

Elliot and Olivia turn to quit the room, their shoulders brushing as they reach the door and Olivia turns back to face her Captain. She can feel the slight pain in that shoulder from when it hit the ground. "What was Riordan told exactly?" she musters the courage to ask.

"Doesn't matter. A regular action report, but he can read between the lines. You two should be thinking about your jobs rather than focusing on your personal issues. We'll close this case first and I'll deal with you later. And pray that Riordan lets me handle this internally," Cragen replies harshly, and it hits her then – even though they dodged those bullets, Elliot is still at risk. He didn't just shield her with his body, he also chose her over the job, again. Because beyond risking himself, and possibly Lori, he was risking the case that so many people spent weeks trying to solve. Roman could have escaped and they would have been left with nothing to lead them to Sarah, just when they were so close. It was like waving a red flag that made people, their CO included, suspect that something else was going on as well.

She just gently nods her head, absentmindedly looking at her Captain, swallowing the lump in her throat, her lips pressed together. Elliot has pivoted on his stand too and they're now turning together again to the exit, following each other out of their Captain's room, leaving him with the memory of an evaluation summary he received years ago from Dr. Hendricks about them. ' _Detectives Benson and Stabler have a degree of mutual reliance and emotional dependence that compromises their effectiveness as police officers. They're too close.'_

Mechanically, they take their seats at their joint desks. Olivia leans her head on the heel of her palm, running her fingers through her hair, her elbow resting on the desk. She then looks up and her eyes meet those of Elliot. He averts his gaze and rubs his forehead with his hand, his posture mirroring hers. She looks away too, escaping to her computer screen.

After a futile scanning of her emails, Olivia switches her screen off and moves to stand up, wearing her jacket.

Elliot brings his eyes to her. There's something different about the way they look at one another – it's cautious, volatile, unsure, as if both know that it's all going to explode and they wonder when, and what will trigger it. They don't know how to be around each other, it's a new reality. And the thing is, that like it or not, they're still partners, again, at least till their Captain decides otherwise or till one of them be the first to break and leave. She doesn't want to bet the odds of who it will be.

"Need a ride home?" he asks, and she wonders how he can offer that they share a small space together again, alone. She can't even fathom.

"No, thanks," she simply says, grabbing her phone and purse. "Good night, El," she adds, realizing she hasn't called him that in a while…though she might have…no, she's not going to step into that mental minefield.

He doesn't reply. Sometime soon they will have to confront all of this, one way or another. For now she knows that he'll keep his distance, because for her sake she ensured he would, by kicking him out. But she feels his eyes on her retreating back, sending warm shivers down her spine, reminding her of his hands gliding along her naked skin.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

The next morning they disperse again into two teams and Olivia continues with Fin. They spend the entire morning trying to bring in two more women for questioning, but eventually manage to bring in one and Elliot and Olivia are the ones to enter the Interview room and start the difficult process of explaining to her that no harm will be done to her, that they're not there to deport her and that she can actually benefit from helping them. At an early afternoon hour, when they start getting some cooperation from her, they're disturbed by a knock on the door.

Elliot steps outside to find Lori with Cragen at the other side of the mirror. "I have a few more names and pictures to show her," she starts immediately, without hello, signaling with her head towards the room that's behind the mirror.

"Munch and Fin went to show these pics to the three we interviewed yesterday," Cragen adds, "see if they know anything about the names Lori has."

Elliot stares blankly at Lori and, opening the door wider and moving aside, he lets her into the Interview room.

Olivia sits next to Anna, the woman they've been talking to. She raises her head and sees Lori entering. "Anna, this is Agent Garcia from the FBI. She's trying to get the men that sold some of the girls we asked you about. She needs your help too," she says, quickly suppressing the instinctive antagonism that the sight of Lori, who looks as Eva Mendes as ever, has caused her.

Her eyes cross paths with those of Elliot, who pulls the door close after Lori. She then looks at Lori again and the agent mutters "Detective" as a greeting and remains to stand on the other side of the table from Anna and Olivia.

She scatters a few pictures on the desk in front of Anna. "Do you recognizes any of these men, Anna?" she asks, making the young woman look at Olivia, as if waiting for her to ok this question.

Olivia nods her head and Anna looks at Lori again before she slides the pictures towards herself to take a closer look at them. She focuses on the men in the pictures for a long moment, leaving her three interviewers to face the heightened tension that has filled the room.

"No," she then says, raising her eyes to Lori.

"No, what?" Lori asks in a demanding, sharp tone.

"No, I don't recognize them," Anna adds, looking at Olivia and Elliot briefly before returning her gaze to Lori again.

"Are you sure? Take another look, Anna," Lori requests, her tone the slightest bit softer.

"I don't have to, I don't know any of them. We never really see anyone except for two or three constant ones who are in charge of getting the money and giving us our share and who…sometimes…," she then chocks on her own words, unable to continue.

"Sometimes what?" Lori insists and despite the softer tone, Anna looks lost.

"I already told _them_ ," Anna replies, looking at Elliot and Olivia.

Olivia has to hold herself back from jumping in and she notices Elliot's hands clenching into fists and she realizes he's restraining himself as well.

"Anna, do you know that some of your friends were _sold,_ permanently, to some of the worst clients you've ever seen?" Anna looks frightened now, her head slightly bobbing at this, while Lori continues. "We want to stop this, so I need your help. I need you to be honest with me and tell me if you've ever seen or heard of any of these men," and she then cites the men's names for Anna.

Anna swallows hard. "I heard about the selling. They kept telling me too that if I ever give them hard time, they will just sell me. I heard of some girls who disappeared, but I don't know what happened to them, and I don't know these men, I really don't."

"Ok, thank you," Lori then says, and picking the pictures off the desk, she sidesteps Elliot who leans against the wall next to the door, his arms crossed across his chest, and she leaves the room without another word to either of the Detectives.

It takes them a bit more time to get the questioning back on track after Lori leaves, and continue with their line in order to get Anna to disclose more details on the regular MO of this organization.

After a while, they hand Anna over to a female uniform cop who will drive her home, and they step outside into the small hall that connects the Interview rooms. Lori and Cragen are standing there, deep in conversation. They pause and look at Elliot and Olivia when they emerge out of the room.

"That was a bit harsh there," Olivia then says, unable to stop herself anymore.

"I had to cut to the chase," Lori replies.

"Well, there are other ways to do that," Olivia says and with that she intends to end this conversation.

"If I don't get to the heads of this human trafficking ring, then everything you see here will continue, all these women…," Lori says, not letting this go.

"We know that, Lori, we see this all the time. But you have to be careful when you speak to their victims," Elliot says, looking at the FBI agent. "I'll call Munch, see if they got anything," he then adds, looking at his Captain, as if hinting Lori that this discussion is over. Olivia watches Lori and follows her gaze. The Agent's eyes fix on Elliot's left hand, that just like his right, is at his side, but unlike it, it's still visibly bruised and chafed, and his black short-sleeved untucked button-up shirt reveals that the chafe marks end above his wrist. Elliot then leaves the three of them and walks towards the bullpen, and at least two of them are peering at his withdrawing back.

Cragen's cellphone starts ringing and he answers the call, signaling Olivia and Lori that he has to take this alone. He leaves them to stand by the window that overlooks the empty Interview room together.

"I'll soon be out of your hair, don't worry," Lori suddenly says, her green eyes intent on Olivia's surprised face.

"Excuse me?" Olivia scoffs.

"You heard me. You found your victim, you're making progress, now all I need is more info on their bosses, so you can close this case and wait for us to find the perpetrators, and we will."

"Wait for you?" Olivia asks icily. "If I were waiting for you to do that, I'd be still barking up all the wrong trees, Agent."

"Mistakes are made, Detective, almost on every case. It doesn't mean that everything is wrong."

"Yes, mistakes have been made in this case all along, I'll give you that," Olivia replies and she's not sure if it's work they're talking about anymore.

A short pause follows this, in which they just glare at each other. "You were shit stirring the whole time," Lori then says quietly, and a cynical, almost satisfied smirk spreads over Olivia's face. She realizes that she derives an almost masochistic pleasure from finally confronting Agent Garcia on what is now clear to them both isn't purely about work anymore.

"Oh, is that right?" she asks.

"Don't pretend like I don't know what's going on here, Detective," Lori says, and Olivia is happy to see the familiar red glow rising from the FBI agent's neck towards her face. It's probably that woman's only physical blemish.

"Maybe you'd like to tell me so I know what's going on here too?" Olivia challenges, fearful of what Lori knows exactly, though in some twisted way it'd be satisfying to see the truth's effect on her.

"You and your partner…," Lori starts and then stops.

"My partner?" she asks. _Isn't he your boyfriend?_ She thinks _._ "I thought he was _your_ partner," she adds out loud, admitting to herself that she doesn't really want Lori to know what happened between her and Elliot. She doesn't want anyone to know this. Ever.

"With this case almost closed, he should be back with his unit," Lori replies and a patronizing tinge cannot escape Olivia's ears. It makes her wonder what exactly is going on between Elliot and Lori.

"So what about me and my partner?" Olivia insists and it feels strange, not necessarily in a bad way, to say this again - 'my partner'.

"He doesn't think you can handle this job, so he jumps in to remove the obstacles for you. A former failed affair, a bullet, and who knows what else."

Olivia's hand twitches with yearn to slap that bitch's face. Her stomach plummeted at the words 'former failed affair' before she realized Lori was referring to Porter. But that didn't help assuaging her rage, if anything, it only turned it up a notch.

"You know what?" She smiles coldly. "If I thought for one minute that you really believe what you're saying, I'd get _really_ angry, but since I know you don't even believe your own words, and that you're only pissed off because I kept challenging you and exposing your bullshit, I just feel sorry for you, Agent Garcia," Olivia says calmly, her eyes fixed on Lori's. Even she, with all her self-doubt and the memories that these words have evoked, is able to refuse the unnerving effect of this blatant lie that has just made Lori seem pathetic. Years and consequences, far and recent, have proven to both her and Elliot that they share the same fault on that score – both fail, both succeed, both need rescuing by the hand of the other.

"Likewise, Detective," Lori expels.

They glare at each other for a rather long moment, none of them willing to be the first to turn and walk away. Then, from the corner of her eye, Olivia sees someone approaching. She moves her eyes towards the tall, solid figure of Elliot.

Lori follows Olivia's gaze and turns her head to find him closing the distance between them.

"Munch got an ID on one of the pictures," he says while taking the last few steps before stopping next to them.

"Which one?" Lori asks.

"Arkadi. Munch is bringing Natalie, the woman who ID'd him, back here. We talked to her yesterday. Told us she was sent a few times to a wealthy Ukrainian man, but the name she gave us didn't yield anything, the name was made up and we didn't have him in our database. She couldn't give us an address or exact timeline. Now she saw the picture you got and identified him as that man," Elliot replies, looking at Lori and then at Olivia.

He has no idea what has just passed between his partner and former partner, and Olivia isn't even sure which one of them is which. But he can probably sense the unmistakable lava between them, because she can see his fingernails boring into his clenched fist and the pulsation of the vein in his neck.

"I want to talk to her first," Lori then declares.

"One of us should be there too," Olivia says coldly.

"You go, Liv," Elliot says, "you talked to her with Fin yesterday." His eyes rest on her and she nods in agreement, and she could swear that the warmth in his eyes is what glues hers to his.

"Great, we'll both talk to her," Lori breaks in.

They walk back towards the bullpen then and disperse. Lori steps to the side to make a call through her cellphone, Elliot goes to update Cragen, while Olivia pours herself another cup of coffee, sipping it quietly in the kitchenette, away from everyone, thinking about what really stood at the basis of her altercation with Lori, till John arrives with Natalie soon after.

Olivia and Lori enter the interview room with her, and Olivia introduces Lori and gently explains why she's there and the importance of the information Natalie has for what Lori is investigating. She's rebuilding that initial trust that was established yesterday between her and Natalie, and all the while she prays that them talking to these women isn't going to backfire if and when their bosses find out.

Lori then starts questioning Natalie about the man she was sent to, asking her if she's ever heard the name Arkadi before, what she knows of him, she's asking for dates and locations and Natalie cooperates.

Thirty minutes into the questioning, Natalie suddenly remembers that at one time she was sent to Arkadi with another girl and that this girl might be able to tell them more. "Did we know about this other girl?" Lori asks Olivia snappishly.

"No," Olivia replies, and then to Natalie she says "Natalie, which one of the girls was that?"

"How exactly did you handle the questioning yesterday?" Lori asks and Olivia knows exactly what she's doing – she's trying to make them look just as bad as she did when Nikita died in her custody. Well, screw her, she won't let her.

Olivia ignores her and looks at Natalie, who now seems confused and a bit scared from ruffling the FBI agent. "Natalie, do you remember which of the girls was sent with you?"

"I don't remember her name, I saw her only that one time," Natalie replies timidly. "I'm trying to think…," she mumbles.

Olivia then spreads the pictures of the three women from the site in front of Natalie. "Take a good look," she asks her. "Was it any of these women?"

Natalie bites her upper lip and then points at one of the pictures. "I think it was her. Her hair was different."

"Vera, it was Vera," Olivia says, straightening up and looking at Lori. They now have a second identification on Vera, one the girls from I'llfixya's original site, before it was taken over by the FBI. The first ID having been made by Sarah, and this might be something, they might actually be able to trace Vera too.

"How was this missed yesterday?" Lori then asks Olivia.

Instead of answering her, Olivia turns to Natalie. "Can you remember when exactly that was?"

When Natalie hesitates, and realizing that Olivia isn't going to answer her, Lori interjects with "why did you conceal this information yesterday?"

"I didn't conceal it, I forgot about it, it was a long time ago," Natalie replies, her accent becoming more and more protrusive as she grows more tired and scared.

"You were shown her picture yesterday. And based on the timelines you gave us, your 'date' with her and Arkadi couldn't have been over a year ago," Lori continues in a demanding tone.

"I was confused, she looked a bit familiar. Do you know how many…," Natalie starts and her throat chocks and tears start filling her eyes. "You have no idea. I can't remember each and every…," she stops and inhales deeply.

Lori is about to open her mouth again, but Olivia stops her. "That's enough, Agent."

"It's enough when I say it is," Lori replies, "we could have had this info yesterday. I hope I don't have to remind you that time is of the essence here."

Olivia almost shakes with anger, with a need to send her fist right into that face, but Natalie's presence is the only thing that stops her. "You have issues with me, don't take it out on her," she says coldly, quietly.

The door opens then and Elliot stands in the doorway. "Agent Garcia, we need a word. Detective, you too."

Olivia and Lori tear their eyes off each other's faces and walk towards the door. They exit it, passing by Elliot who leans on it, holding it open for them. He then closes it behind them. Cragen stands outside and he doesn't look happy at all.

"Saved by the bell again, Detective," Lori mutters and maybe Elliot and Cragen have missed that, but Olivia surely hasn't and she knows exactly what Lori alludes to – same blatant lie from before – that she needs Elliot to rescue her.

"I've always admired your professionalism, Agent," she says. "Especially when you interrogate victims and get suspects killed." With that Olivia turns around and walks away, leaving Elliot, Lori and Cragen behind, her feet carrying her towards the bullpen and from there into the filing room that is on the far end of the floor.

She stooped low, but she couldn't hold herself back anymore. She could have been way more brutal than that, she could have mentioned that Lori's professionalism included sleeping with her partner, but she didn't want to give Lori the satisfaction, certainly not when she's guilty of the exact same thing. Olivia leans against the closed door with her eyes shut, taking deep breathes to cool herself off.

She manages to control her rugged breathing and a moment later she hears footsteps and then a knock on the wooden surface, which she feels in her back. Her eyes drift open.

"Liv," she hears his voice. "Liv, can I come in?"

She closes her eyes again, takes another deep breath, releases it and then moves away from the door, knowing that he'll feel it and realize that the road is clear. In the middle of the filing room there's a metal desk. She half sits on it, facing the door, wondering if he's going to try and explain Lori to her. She remembers the times she argued with Lori and he didn't take a stand, or just made sure to stop them without really taking her side as she'd expected of him. But things have changed since then, too many things, but more to the point - he's been different, he's been Elliot again when it had to do with work. Which Elliot is she going to meet now – the one who got them into this mess in the first place and then praised her breakthroughs in the case, or the one who caressed her body and shielded it with his own and then stayed in Boston with Lori?

"I'm coming in," he announces, turning the doorknob slowly. When she doesn't answer, he pushes the door open and they look at each other. "Is it ok?" he asks.

Her face signals a 'whatever' and he enters and closes the door behind him, leaning against it.

"Are you ok?" he asks softly, after a beat.

"Yeah," she mutters, her eyes briefly on his face and then escape to the side.

"Liv, what happened out there? What did she tell you?" he asks, his eyes searching for hers.

"Doesn't matter. She knows dick about interviewing victims or witnesses. She sees suspects everywhere."

Elliot pushes himself off the door, his head bobbing once or twice in acknowledgment of her words. "What did she say to you, Liv?" he repeats, taking two steps into the room.

"You should have a serious conversation with your girlfriend," she expels, ignoring his question and avoiding his eyes that search for hers, "she has some serious issues."

"She's not my girlfriend," he replies, his eyes intent on her face.

"Right, fuck buddy, I keep forgetting," she says.

"I haven't touched her, not since…," he says urgently and then stops himself. She brings her eyes to him. From the look of him she knows it slipped from his mouth inadvertently.

"Why are you telling me this?" she picks it up, combative, challenging, though deep down she wants to know the answer to this.

Elliot sucks his bottom lip slightly in, biting it before he replies, as if he's measuring his words, his chances, his odds.

"I haven't touched her," he then repeats, "not since that night upstate. And she was never my girlfriend."

"Good for you," she only says, but his words hit her in a way she's not willing to admit yet, and she removes her eyes from his, unable to endure the blue magnet of his gaze.

"Cragen is making sure she's not going to set a foot in our Interview room with a witness or a victim again," he says after a beat.

"Good," she manages to say, her brain and heart racing towards the meaning of what he's told her, leaving her capable of nothing more.

They're silent for another moment, their gazes evading each other. "You asked me a while ago if I trusted her and I told you that I did. I don't, Olivia, not anymore, not for a while," he suddenly says and she can feel his eyes on her again.

"Why did you stay in Boston then?" she finally dares asking, her voice a bit hoarse, and her eyes laboriously fix on his face again.

"I had to make sure everything was clear, that she knew that past mistakes remain in the past," he replies and Olivia feels her heart beating in her throat.

She swallows it but she can still feel it thumping. "Cap is waiting for us," she says after a short beat, pushing herself off the desk.

"You're doing this again, Liv. You ask a question and then you don't listen to the answer," Elliot says and he's taking two more steps in her direction.

"I am. I don't have anything to say."

Elliot wets his lips before he rasps "I don't want to be your mistake, Olivia."

She inhales and she hopes he hasn't noticed her need for air. She then grits her teeth before she throws the dagger. "It's too late for that, isn't it?"

The blue of his eyes becomes darker as Elliot bites his lower lip, taking in her words, her sword, calculating his own.

"I guess," he replies quietly.

Another beat passes and then she walks towards him, towards the exit, passing by him, feeling the heat radiating from his body, inhaling a whiff of his aftershave and the cotton of his shirt. Elliot turns his head to watch her leave.

"You coming?" she throws behind her shoulder.

He doesn't reply. He doesn't follow her either.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** To L, who sheds light on my blindspots.

 **Chapter 15:**

He sits there for long moments after the door has closed behind Olivia. He didn't have to go back there so soon, didn't want to witness the scene of Lori leaving, the anger of his Captain, the half-masked pain in Olivia's eyes that he put there.

So he just sits on the filing room's desk, in the spot that she has vacated.

His biggest mistake was that by trying to avoid ruination, he actually brought it on. With all his fears and efforts to abstain from her, to keep it together, corked for years, to feel something other than love for her, he actually did what he'd been afraid he'd do by going for the opposite – he broke it all till nothing was left, except for the burn marks that they'd both carry, separately.

For weeks he'd hardly known what he was doing anymore - going back and forth between trying to restore to something that it was too late to wind back to, something bearable for them both to carry, and trying to move forward to something else, the chances of which he'd magnanimously fucked – and he had to admit that he was nearing his meltdown.

All he knows is that he's willing to get burnt for her, with her, and that if they're singed already, then he'd rather go through it with her, trying to heal together, because she's a necessity to him, a constant ache. He doesn't regret her, despite the pain, she isn't his mistake, she never could be.

He didn't want to be a mistake she'd made. He asked her, begged her almost, to say that he wasn't, insisting on 'the truth'. He's got her truth now. She got his.

And maybe she's right. It's too late and they should stay apart. After all, they both know each other so well, maybe better than they know themselves, and they know which buttons to push, so they can hurt each other and then be the comfort for that hurt, and viciously circle between hurt and comfort again and again. Fucked up. Twisted.

But then again, countless times they've carried one another for better and for worse, in sickness and in health, and death almost did them part more than once. So it's worth the try, because maybe they can make it together after all, despite everything, and they won't know until they try. Could it be worse than it is now? Yes. But he's willing to pay the price to find out.

Only she isn't, not anymore. It wasn't death after all, but his own doing, that did them part. And now he'll have to deal with it. Somehow.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

Back in the Interview room with Natalie, she'd managed to get a few more helpful details from her, before they let her go. When she'd gotten back there, leaving Elliot behind, Lori wasn't there anymore, only her Captain that told her "wrap it up, Olivia." So she did.

And then she went home without seeing Elliot again.

Now she's home, standing by the open window, a glass of red wine nestled in her palm, the light breeze on her face.

This day has started with the torment of seeing Lori and colliding with her and ended with facing the consequences of having her gone. Despite everything, Lori's become an excuse. To hate Elliot, to blame him for everything, to stay away from him.

She needed that excuse. She'd always needed one. She was petrified when she first discovered how deeply in love she'd been with a married man, realizing that she was wallowing so deep in quicksand that she couldn't rescue herself. So time and time again she tried to rescue his marriage instead.

She thought that it couldn't get worse than this. She was wrong. She thought that his separation years ago and how they didn't go for it back then had immuned her. She was wrong. Because when his marriage was over, she found herself torn again between hoping that something would finally give and she'd ultimately know for sure if the undercurrents between them had been real or not, and being scared shitless of it. It was a rewind to several years back. She was torn between being jealous over his divorcee's escapades and being spared by them the risk of facing her most inner desire and deepest fear.

When she and Elliot have finally succumbed to something that perhaps was inevitable all along, she wasn't exactly sure what to make of it - it wasn't a tender love making; it was sweat, muscles and heated friction. It was lust, anger, tension erupting. But was it more? All she knew was the truth that he gave her - the one she'd sometimes suspected but never let herself dwell on, her self-doubt operating as her sanity guard – that the undercurrents were real, he wanted her too. But there was a 'but'. _We burn everything._ So he chose to not go there, and go for someone else instead. Repeatedly. Maybe because he's better with someone else, better off in a constellation where they are only partners, away from the harm they can do. She's so fucked up when it comes to love that she can really understand why he thought it'd be better to not go there with her. So yes, he wanted her, but he wasn't willing to pay the price. Her most inner desire and deepest fear came to life. Be careful with what you wish for.

And to further complicate an already complicated situation, now he told her that Lori was out of the picture - the excuse she's had - and now he's willing to pay the price, or so he says – and that scares her too. It took her time to let it sink, but when he told her that he'd ended things with Lori once he'd kissed her that night upstate, her heart constricted with a feeling she rarely knew – joy – and another that she immediately recognized - fear.

'I don't want to be your mistake', he said, _but I am yours_ , she thought. He might prefer to ignore it now, when it's all raw, but sooner or later he'll discover that it's true, that he's been right all along to stay away, and then the pain will be devastating. Because they're not good at this. They have so many proofs of failure. Being partners was the only constellation that could work for them, but they fucked it up as well, and it didn't really matter whose fault it was – both, probably, she with her display window eyes and he with his alpha male tendencies – they landed exactly where he thought they'd land if they ever tried something else. She is his mistake, and he's hers.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

It's only 7:36am and she's at the coffee corner in the precinct, making her second cup of coffee of the day, the first one at work. She hardly slept at night so at some point she decided it'd be better to go to work already. The bullpen is barely occupied. Cragen is in his office; if it wasn't for the clean suit, she'd think he spent the night in his office. Maybe he did, he was already there when she got in ten minutes ago.

When Olivia steps towards her desk, her palms wrapped around a warm mug, her partner walks in through the main entrance, looking himself as ever. No jeans or dockers, no untucked casual buttoned up shirt or pullover, but a suit, dark blue with a grey dress shirt and a striped tie. Their eyes meet for a moment and then escape.

"Morning," they both mumble, crossing past each other – he on his way to his desk, she on the way to hers.

Her computer is already on, he switches his on too. They're on borrowed time.

"Natalie gave us a timeline to work with on Vera," she says, matter of factly.

"Locations?" he asks, his eyes on his screen.

"Yeah," she mutters. "On your desk."

She watches from the corner of her eyes as he picks up the printed page from his desk and starts going over it.

"Cragen wants us to split it with Munch and Fin, cover as much as possible today," she adds quietly the Captain's orders from last night.

He barely nods his head.

"More hotels," he says, referring to the list of locations he's holding, but a phantom flashes between them, as if the air has frozen for a nanosecond as the same memories crossed their minds at the exact same time.

Elliot sets the page down and starts going over his emails. She ducks her head, trying to hide behind her computer screen, exhaling a long silent puff of air.

Their Captain steps outside of his office and she raises her head. "Should we get going with the list?" she asks.

"Not yet," Cragen replies. He then speaks to Elliot who hasn't acknowledged his Captain's presence. "Elliot, a word please."

Her heart plummets and her eyes shoot towards Elliot, catching his reaction – his teeth grind, his fingers freeze on the keyboard, and without moving his head, his eyes raise to look at her. He then turns his head over his right shoulder, towards his CO. "Sure," he expels and moves to stand up.

Cragen turns back and starts walking towards his office. Elliot's eyes cross paths with hers once more before he follows him.

They've been closed in there for five minutes and she can't work, she can hardly breathe. Her heart is telling her that this isn't good.

Two more minutes and the door opens and Elliot walks out of the Captain's office. Without looking directly at her, he stops by his desk and picks up his cellphone and keys. She swallows hard.

"What happened?" she asks, standing up as well.

Elliot raises his head and a deep blue gaze meets her, a melting icicle. A nervous chew of the side of his lower lip precedes the words. "I'm suspended. Till further notice."

"El," she says, and everything is temporarily forgotten. He's suspended for his instinct to protect her. Of all the shitty things that happened with this case, this shouldn't be it.

"See you later," he just mutters, not grudgingly but ashamedly, and then walks away. She pivots to watch him leave.

A second later she has her senses back and it might be a suicide mission, but she strides towards Cragen's office.

"Why now, Cap?" she asks without waiting for Cragen to even look up from his papers.

"Because he deserved it, and because it'll save him trouble later," he replies, raising his eyes to her.

"Riordan?" she asks.

"Yes. Riordan. _I'd_ better deal with it before he questions Elliot's conduct."

" _Conduct?_ Isn't this going a bit too far?" she asks and a crippling pang of fear flashes through her – do Cragen and Riordan know more about the conduct of the three of them during this entire case? They all crossed boundaries, all put personal issues if not before the case, then at least in parallel to it.

"Riordan sees this as leaving one of his own to fight a shooter alone, when there should have been three," Cragen replies, his round face bolted. He looks at her. It's true and she even feels a bit bad for Lori because at that point, the FBI agent didn't even know that Elliot had intended to end everything with her, though she might had suspected.

"Elliot is the one that ended up taking Roman down," she says.

"Olivia," he says and stops, just like he did before he dropped the bomb on her and Elliot two days ago. It makes her want to run for cover. "If a formal complaint is filed, it will open a can of worms. We don't want that." They stare at each other. It's a warning, it's Cragen's hint that he's aware that this isn't just a regular fuck up that he can let slip, like he usually did when she and Elliot covered up for one another in multiple ways up till now.

She wants that can of worms to stay sealed. So she doesn't say a thing.

She's about to turn and walk out when Cragen stops her. "One more thing, Olivia." Her heart misses a beat. "I'm closing this case. From our side. We have other cases waiting and I need the manpower. This will be handled by the FBI from now on." The look of amazement on her face is probably what makes him add "you did a great job on this one, Olivia, the breakthroughs were yours, we found Sarah, but we need to move on. This case is way over our capacity, manpower and budget."

With her eyes intent on his, she puckers her lips and gently nods her head, giving in, giving up. With the warning he's just given her it'd be better to comply quietly. And maybe it's about time to put this avalanche of a case behind her and start dealing with its debris.

"Agent Garcia will stop by later on to pick up any material we have on this, including what you got from Natalie last night," Cragen then adds.

"Sure," she mutters and walks out.

Before noontime, she's deep over her head with Munch and Fin on two other cases – learning the details, reading the reports, taking some of the tasks off their hands. "What got Elliot suspended?" Fin asked earlier and they both looked at her. "You'll have to ask Cragen," she replied, knowing that he wouldn't tell them, but at least he'd be the bad guy and not her.

She doesn't call Elliot, no point in that, he's not going to pick up and she wouldn't know what to say anyway.

She's on the phone when Agent Garcia walks into the bullpen and stops by her desk. Olivia motions a 'one minute' to her and finishes that phone call. "Where's Elliot?" Lori asks, her eyes skimming his deserted desk.

Knowing now that Elliot has ceased things between him and Lori, Olivia is somewhat surprised at this question. She moves to stand up. "He was suspended. Over your action report," she spits the words quietly, looking into the agent's eyes.

A genuine expression of shock followed by comprehension crosses Lori's features and Olivia realizes that she didn't know about it or even thought about it as a possible consequence.

Olivia retrieves a manila folder that she's prepared in advance and hands it over to Lori. "The case reports. It's all in here." She just wants her out of there. Yesterday has been more than she could tolerate of that woman.

Lori mutters "thanks," still looking a bit confused, her eyes move again to Elliot's desk.

"If there's anything missing or if you have any questions, call me," Olivia adds, hoping that this will serve as a hint for the agent to take leave.

It works. Lori repeats her thanks, hesitates for a moment and then adds "goodbye, Detective Benson," before strutting out.

Olivia sits back on her chair, rubbing her face with the tips of her fingers. She then empties a cold coffee leftover from her mug and prepares to continue working.

A moment later she as much as slams her new case folder on the surface of her desk and stands up. She needs a break, she needs a moment to gather herself.

When she flings the bathroom door open, she's surprised again. This time to see Lori there, standing with her back to one of the sinks, her cellphone in her hand, and she looks as if she's just tried to make a call. She looks up alarmed to find Olivia.

"Detective," she greets grimly, shoving her phone into her jacket's pocket, turning on her feet, facing the sink now. She turns the tap on and places her hands under the water. Olivia looks at her through the mirror that hangs on the wall, but the agent's face is bowed down.

 _So much for a break_ , Olivia thinks, but she doesn't want Lori to realize that she only came to the bathroom because she needed one, so she heads to one of the stalls.

"I didn't know he'd get suspended," Lori says, raising her head and her eyes meet those of Olivia through the mirror.

Olivia doesn't reply and just looks at her, waiting for her to continue.

"There was nothing there that…but I guess…he risked the case, he made a choice," Lori continues, turning the tap off. She tears a paper towel from the dispenser before she continues. "He's no stranger to bad choices," she says, wiping her wet hands while turning around to face Olivia. She then throws the paper towel into the bin, her eyes not flinching. It's clear to them both that it's not work she refers to anymore.

"You know him, what, a month?" Olivia retorts. "You think you know him? Because you're sleeping with him?" she asks, the words fall from her mouth like hail.

"He told you that, or you figured it out all by yourself?" Lori asks, a small sarcastic and a little pained smile on her pretty face.

"We tell each other everything, Agent, eventually, don't go wrong there," Olivia replies, ignoring the prickle in the younger woman's question, the sarcasm, even the pain. Elliot may be guilty of a lot of things, but he's always told her the truth, even when it was hard and ugly.

Lori makes a little noise in the back of her throat, that sounds like a 'huh'. "I _don't_ know him," she then says, her face stern. "And I don't sleep with him either. Not anymore. Didn't he tell you _that_?"

Olivia keeps quiet, and after a short pause Lori only adds "see you around, Detective," and walks straight out of the bathroom. She thought that Lori would feel like she won because they're closing the case on their end, but she didn't look victorious.

Olivia remains to stand there alone, her eyes on the whiteness of the door that closed behind Lori. Lori the excuse, Lori that made everything erupt despite the string of rebound flings that probably preceded her, because she hit too close to home.

eoeoeoeooeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

In the course of a few days Olivia doesn't hear about Elliot or from him. She's too busy to stop and think, but there's something that she evades, something that calls for her attention, like a ticking inside her that she can't fully ignore. She misses him. She misses him despite the million times she prayed to never see him again over the last few months. Thankfully, it's something she can feel mostly when there's silence around her, when she's alone, which doesn't happen much due to the workload the squad is facing.

Cragen isn't saying anything either. But Munch does. At one of their briefing meetings with their Captain, almost a week after Elliot was sent home, he brings it up. "I hate to be the one asking, but when is Elliot coming back? We're swamped here and could use another pair of hands."

All eyes are on him, and Olivia's heart rate picks up. "I don't know yet," is Cragen's only reply.

On her lunch break Olivia approaches him on this. "Regarding Elliot," she starts but Cragen interjects.

"It's a paid leave, Olivia, and I want to let the dust settle first."

She slightly raises her hands in front of her in a 'I get it' gesture, biting her lips.

When another week passes by, the tick tock inside her is getting louder, like a countdown of emotion that is about to implode. It's an ache that is pulsating inside her and it has a name. Elliot. Sure, it's easier to not have to face him, and it's great not to have Lori around anymore, but when Cragen updates her that the FBI have managed to get closer to finding Vera and that they have caught a few of Nikita's peers, she wonders if Elliot is aware of it, if she should tell him.

"Does Elliot know?" she asks her Captain.

"Yes," he tells her. "I talked to him," he adds cryptically.

"When is he coming back?" she asks.

He looks at her, hesitating. "He's not," he then says and for a moment she isn't sure she's heard him right. "Olivia, I've been meaning to talk to you," he continues, and then standing up, Cragen moves to close the door to his office.

Her heart hammers in her ribcage, waiting for him to sit back down.

"We reached a mutual agreement to transfer Elliot to another precinct," Cragen says and she feels weak and sick all of a sudden. She knew it would come, she knew they were on borrowed time, that they wouldn't be able to work together anymore, she even wished for it at some point, but anticipating something and finally facing it isn't the same thing.

"Where?" is all she asks.

"The 24th," he replies. "He's gonna work homicide."

The Two-Four is not even that far from them - this is her first thought. The choice of unit is her second thought. Elliot's not going out of the dark side. If it's not special victims, it's regular victims. Blood and death will still surround him.

She contemplates the option of calling Elliot and decides against it. It's better that way. She'd rather bear the constant tick tock and hope it'll subside, than face his voice, face him. It will throw her back and she doesn't need that.

The weekend is hard, she spends hours at the gym, she even comes into work for a few hours, anything to stop herself from reaching out to him. It's better to just let him go.

When she comes in on Monday morning, his desk is empty. Not just of him, but of everything. The picture he had there of him and his kids, the papers, the stack of files, the little stress ball his eldest daughter got for him. His computer screen, mouse and keyboard look abandoned. He was there over the weekend too, and knowing him, it was probably Sunday night. He too wanted to evade her.

Munch gets in right after and he stops to stand next to her, gazing at Elliot's vacant desk. "We'll be right here," he says quietly, pointing at his and Fin's desks. They don't have to talk about the why, the what, the where, she assumes they know at least some of it and will find the rest out later, it spares her the need to utter it in words. Elliot is gone.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

Another week drags by and then another and the void that Elliot has left among them all remains, it doesn't lose its first effect. It exists in the silence they've chosen to wrap around it, in the delicate treatment she receives from her colleagues and in the fact that they're overloaded with work.

The workload is probably the only thing that saves her from herself. She's in a fog of constant action, long racing days that resemble one another. She lost count of how many weeks it's been since Elliot was suspended, how long ago it was that she heard him whisper her name in her ear and felt his body against hers. It feels like eternity and it feels like yesterday, depending on how much she succeeds in burying the persistent ticking yearn under the thinly veiled status of perpetual exhaustion.

When a text message from Elliot lands in her phone at the beginning of yet another work week, she's forced to calculate and acknowledge that he managed to last only three or four weeks before he perturbed the little feelings-free routine she tried to build for herself. "Can we talk?" the message reads and it takes her a whole day to respond. "It's not a good idea," she finally texts back. He probably gets the message, literally and figuratively, because he doesn't reply.

But the damage is done. She's forced to calculate that three weeks are more than half the time they worked on the case with the FBI, and back then the days moved so slowly that it felt like a year, while now the days blend into each other and feel like a week, keeping the tug inside her raw.

Two days later Cragen updates her that the FBI have found Vera, alive but not so well. "Are you still in touch with Lori?" she asks.

"Her boss," he replies. He probably can see the look of concern on her face, so he adds "he's off Elliot's case, but I asked for updates regarding their progress. They have enough to get a conviction on some of the perpetrators."

"Did they find out who killed Nikita?" she asks.

"Better. They found who gave the order."

"Good," she replies, thinking that without them on her back, Lori and her team probably just continued with their upward mode of work and they won't stop till they get the heads of that ring. Fame and a big fat promotion is a probably a great incentive and Lori seems the ambitious type.

With all this fresh on her mind, she decides to stay late that evening with Fin. They have to scan several tapes in order to assess if a perp they're trying to nail is or isn't harassing underage girls knowingly in a chain of stores he works for.

They split the tapes between them and, each at their own desk, they're exchanging a few words whenever one of them finds something notable in the footage. She's deep into the 2nd tape, fighting to keep her eyes open, when Fin's voice calls for her attention again. She turns her head to look at him, but he's not speaking to her, his gaze is on something behind her.

"We thought we finally got rid of you," she hears him say, smiling, and she turns around to find Elliot walking hesitantly towards them. Her heart finds its way to her stomach all at once.

"You thought wrong," Elliot replies and his gaze shifts from Fin to her, mid-sentence.

"Wanna lend us a hand here?" Fin asks jokingly.

Elliot has stopped to stand in the middle between Fin's desk and hers. "Can't manage without me?" he asks, joking back, but his voice is tinged with everything but. "Have you heard about Vera?" he continues.

She's thankful for Fin, because all she can do is sit there silently. "Yeah, Cragen keeps us up to date," Fin replies. "You keep tabs on that too?" he adds and she wonders where Elliot gets his intel from.

"Not really, but it circled back to me," Elliot answers and she can imagine Lori insisting on keeping him in the loop.

There's a short silent pause and then Elliot addresses her directly. "How you've been?"

"Busy," she says, her voice hoarse and she wishes she'd chosen another reply because this one, while short, depicts an entire universe to Elliot who knows her inside out.

Fin can probably sense that Elliot needs a moment with his ex-partner, so he's discreetly focusing entirely on his task again, leaving them as much alone as possible. Elliot takes a step towards her desk, and it's like the configuration in the deserted bullpen has changed and they're there by themselves.

"How's the Two-Four?" she asks.

"Ok," he replies, and if they continue using one-word answers they won't amount to much.

He's standing and she's still seated, half pivoted towards him and she wonders if she should stand up too or just wait for him to leave. It's like time and distance have made her forget how achingly good her ex-partner can look in jeans and a dark blue fitted pullover that his shoulders fill so well, his gun holstered to his jeans and she wonders if this is the dress code in Homicide, or is Elliot ditching his suits again, now that he's away from them all.

"Are you almost done here?" he asks.

"Not really," she replies.

"Can we talk?" he asks, lowering his voice even further, as if she hasn't replied to that already over a text message just two days before.

She hesitates and then gets on her feet. "The Interview rooms are free," she half- mumbles, passing by him, leading the way to the back.

They enter one of the rooms and Elliot closes the door behind them. "I had to see you," he says without stalling.

He's waiting for her to respond, resist, something, but when she doesn't, he continues. "It's not easy starting over." She's still quiet, so he goes on. "It had to be one of us, I thought it'd better be me." His teeth and tongue stop on his lower lip before he carries on. "I wanted to give you space, Olivia, that's why I didn't call. But…it's been a while, and I thought…" he stops speaking then, taking one step towards her.

He wants her to say something, she knows she should, but she has no idea what to say. Here stands the man that every nerve in her wants, that her heart is pulling her to, and she can't bring herself to speak. Knowing now what she knows about how it feels to touch him, to submerge in him, to have him wrap her fully in his arms, she's afraid that she'll surrender now, and if she does, she won't be able to let go, even if they become toxic for each other.

"I don't have all the answers here, Liv, you'll have to help me out," he says, watching her and she knows he can see the slight shake of her head, which is her body's way to utter what her mouth won't – the alarm that keeps screaming inside her head and heart – and the first indication of tears that start glistening in her eyes. "Liv?" he half whispers, taking another step towards her.

"I can't, Elliot, _we_ can't," she finally says, her throat clogged, her voice a hoarse half-whisper.

"Why?" he asks, his eyes fixed on hers.

"There's a reason why we haven't…why…"

"We were wrong, Liv. I know it changes everything, and starting over, different, is hard, but…is _this_ better?"

She shrugs her inability to give him a proper answer to that. No, this isn't better, it's as fucked up as it can be; 'better' was the way they were several months ago. It wasn't easy for her back then either, but it was something she knew, these were rules she recognized and could play by.

And as if he knows what she's thinking about he says "I can't come back here, Liv, no matter what, you know that. My time in SVU…is done… shit, when we took this case on, I never thought…but maybe it was time. I can't believe we'll just…" he doesn't finish the sentence, instead he just inhales.

She looks at him and all she wants is him back, the way they used to be, the only way they could be. All she wants is to feel that safety and belonging again that the sight of him ignites in her. But even at this moment, the strength of his body, the wide and solid contour of him, the rough edges, his clean masculine smell, it all makes her want to crawl into him, to disappear between his arms. She hates herself like that.

"What do you want, Elliot?" she finally asks tiredly, because she can't rewind them back to where they used to be and she can't cope with what they've done and become.

"My partner."

And this question and this answer that apply to them both is what fucked them up from the very beginning.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, because her voice can't carry the weight of guilt and tears, she's sorry about all the years that she wanted him when she shouldn't have, that in part led them to where they are now, and she's sorry but she can't move forward to where he wants her to, because if _this_ is painful, how shuttered would she be when, not if, when they really burn everything? Having had him and losing him now is hard, it would be intolerable if she ever allows it to get more real.

"Ok. I hear you," he says and she hates the pain that she's put in his eyes. Why can't she be normal?

Her hands almost tremble with the need to smooth them across his chest, over his face, to remove the expression that has settled in it.

Elliot presses his lips together, as if stopping himself from speaking. He then takes a few steps back, his eyes still on her and at the very last his voice barely utters "bye, Liv."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** You deserved a faster update after flooring me with your reviews, sorry for the long wait. But here's to you all, and to L who rightfully challenges me.

Love you ALL!

 **Chapter 16:**

She doesn't regret her decision, painful as the consequences are. Maybe to someone like Elliot, who's had at least one long term relationship in his life, it's easier, and he doesn't dwell as much as she does on all the particulars of what made them who they are to each other, all the baggage they carry together and apart. But to her, he's the longest relationship she's ever had and she doesn't have another example to draw from, except from loving a man who was taboo for so long.

And he's told her the truth again, though it was hard, while she didn't have the courage. Isn't it proof enough that she sucks at this?

She tries not to think about it too much. Sometimes she succeeds. Time passes by, it just does, and she carries on. One day at a time doesn't seem to work for her, she needs it to pass by in bulks, in multitudes of seconds and minutes that sum up to days and weeks that will distance her from the fresh memories.

She goes on a date.

In one of the first opportunities she finds, she drops by Computer Crimes to close the loose end with Albero, apologize for getting him in trouble and thank him for all he's done. He assures her that he's past it already and promises that his boss has let it slip and that everything was ok. When one of his colleagues stops by his desk while she's there, Albero introduces them. Derek Perry is a Computer Crimes detective, four years her junior. Divorced, two kids, handsome and clever. They have a really nice time together, she even agrees for a second date, but there's a void inside her he could never fill and she knows it. She tries anyway. When he kisses her a gentle good night kiss on their second date, it's nice, but he could have been anyone really. She feels nothing, except for sorry for him. She breaks it off before it gets anywhere. Maybe she needs more time, maybe not now, maybe when more bulks of time and distance pass by.

When a new detective joins their unit, she realizes that Elliot's absence is infinite. He's replaced by a younger female detective.

"We need another woman in this unit," her Captain explains his choice, "it took me a while to find someone who would be willing to transfer here."

Alicia Bennett has transferred from the Anti-Crime unit. With 8 years of experience, she felt it was time for a change and was excited to join SVU. Cragen partners her with Munch and Olivia gets Fin. She's grateful for that, because she's not sure she could handle training a newbie and having a daily reminder that her partner has left the unit because they both made it impossible for themselves to work together anymore.

Two months later, Cragen asks Olivia to work a case with Alicia. They have a perp in custody that they're trying to nail for several cases of raping and beating up prostitutes. Most of the women don't want to file a complaint, so they need to locate more witnesses and victims. For that end they join a patrol car driven by a policeman that has spotted and spoke to a few potential women before they managed to connect the dots between the cases.

They're in the patrol car and Olivia has forgotten how loud and intrusive the 911 dispatching of regular patrol can be. When she worked Patrol long ago, she got used to it, but now she feels like in a war zone. She hopes that by the next day she'll get used to it.

But she doesn't. Not even after two more days. While Alicia can talk over the constant dispatch background noise that keeps calling for units, directing them and closing open calls, she feels like she can't concentrate. "Can we turn the damn thing off?" she asks half-jokingly the uniform cop they ride with.

"Can't. Protocol," the cop replies seriously.

"You're not going to reply to any of these anyway while you're with us," she reminds him, this time seriously too.

"Still can't, sorry," the patrol cop replies and she notices the glances he exchanges with Alicia.

When has she become so inexplicable to others, those that don't know her up close like Fin and…Elliot? And when has she become so damn brass that she can't handle the patrol 911 dispatch? She's been with Detective Units for fifteen years, and while they don't answer 911 dispatches and only use their own internal radio communication, she shouldn't be that foreign to it.

Maybe that's why she's the first to notice the call to all close-by units to reach 96th and Amsterdam for a shooting incident involving police officers, four days into riding in a patrol car. The dispatcher repeats the call and because the patrol she's in isn't supposed to answer calls, both Alicia and Sam, the uniform cop they're with, seem to ignore it. But she can't.

"10-34 shots fired," the dispatcher calls again, "all units by 96th and Amsterdam."

"Which precinct is it?" she asks, her heart-race picking up.

"24th," Sam replies and her stomach plummets.

"Can you ask for details?" she sputters, her mouth dry.

"What for?" he challenges.

"I know someone," she half mumbles her reply, making Alicia turn her head towards her.

"They're not gonna give me names," he indicates and she feels like a rookie, though she's the senior among them.

Olivia doesn't reply. But something inside her can't be pacified. She nervously listens to the radio communication between close by patrol units and the dispatch, her stomach clenches at the sound of distant sirens and her palms start to sweat when she realizes she wants to take a hold of that steering wheel and drive to 96th and Amsterdam.

"Ambulance on its way to Mount Sinai, suspect arrested, all units disperse," the dispatch updates five minutes later and Olivia's palms become numb with fear.

She bites her lips that feel dry and cold, and starts to word her request and then stops. She takes a deep breath and tries again. This time the words come out of her mouth. She has to remind herself that she's the senior officer in the car and that she shouldn't care what Alicia and Sam think of her. She just wants to get there.

"Take me to Mount Sinai," she orders and they both look at her. "You heard me," she adds bitingly when Sam just continues driving and their eyes are still glued to her.

"Ok," Sam replies and she doesn't care what they think. All she knows is that she needs to be in that hospital.

When he stops by the entrance to the E.R. twenty minute later, she looks at them. "I'll get to the House myself, I'll update Cragen that I'm here. You two continue." Sometimes it's good to be in charge.

She steps out of the car and walks decidedly towards the entrance, her heart pounding in her chest, her mouth dry. The E.R is to her right, people enter and exit, medics everywhere, an ambulance pulls away with full siren on. She walks through the sliding doors.

She turns to the nurse at the reception desk and flashes her badge. "The police officers that arrived here recently," she only says and the woman points towards the back of the entrance hall.

"One of them is in surgery. Ask over there," she adds and Olivia leaves the desk before she has a chance to finish the sentence.

She rushes inside and stops a nurse that holds a list. She flashes her badge again. "The police officers that got here," she repeats. "Elliot Stabler?" she asks and she hasn't said his name out loud in months though it echoed in her heart and head every single day.

The nurse doesn't even look at the list. "Over there, room 13," she indicates and Olivia's throat clogs. Her heart and gut were right. It was him.

She has no time to think, no time to panic. She runs down the hall and stops outside the room. It's E.R, she can't just barge into the room, and she has no idea what awaits her there. But it's not a surgery room, at least that. The door has a window and she peers through it. There is more than one bed in the room, there are several, separated by curtains and at least five doctors and nurses are in there, moving between the beds. It looks somewhat chaotic, she can't just enter.

The staff doesn't look alarmed or in an emergency mode, so she has hope. Besides, having been to the E.R. more than once on account of Elliot, she knows they wouldn't let her near the room if he were in danger.

At that moment, one of the nurses in the room turns around and walks towards the door and flings it open. Olivia moves aside and catches her before she leaves. "Elliot Stabler?" her voice grates.

"He's in there," the nurse says. "You're his wife?" she asks.

"Partner," she manages to lie despite the throb of her heart and the sudden fist that painfully clenched it at the woman's question and then at her own answer.

"You can go in, they're done with him, I think," she says. "Last bed on the right," she adds when Olivia passes her by on her way into the room.

She walks past the medical staff that handles two other patients, towards the curtained bed at the end of the room, by the window, hoping that no one will notice her and kick her out of there.

Outside the closed curtain that separates the beds from one another to allow some flimsy privacy, she takes a deep breath. She then grabs the curtain and slowly opens it, afraid of what she'll find behind it. She's been chanting a silent prayer ever since she heard the radio dispatch. 'Please let him be ok, please let him be ok'. She made promises she couldn't keep, in return to Elliot being safe.

Her eyes close for a brief moment and then open. Elliot is lying on the bed, shirtless, a large white bandage wrapped around his left shoulder, running under his left arm.

"How's my partner?" he rasps and her stomach clenches. He doesn't see her from the angle he's lying. He thinks she's a nurse and is asking about his partner that probably was involved in the same shooting incident.

She watches his face, he looks pale and she sees how he strains his neck to try and look at the person that entered from behind the curtain when there's no reply to his question. But at least he looks ok. 'Thank you' she silently thinks, offering thanks to a deity she has never really believed in.

"El," she says and her voice comes out a bit choked.

She takes another step closer to the bed and Elliot tilts his head a bit more and their eyes meet.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, unable to suppress a surprised tone and expression, and she smiles internally because at least she knows he's fine. Being with him and losing him wasn't her worst fear after all. Losing him completely without ever seeing him again or telling him how she felt was the blackest of her fears. Every nerve ending in her body has screamed it.

Despite the voices of the medical team that treats someone in one of the next beds, with only a curtain to separate, she feels like they're alone in there. She stares into his eyes. They're bloodshot but the deep blue is a magnet.

She doesn't know what to say. What _is_ she doing there?

"How did you know?" he asks.

"Gut feeling."

"Who called you?" he challenges.

"No one. I was with Patrol and heard the dispatch. I had a feeling…" she takes another step and it brings her to stand right by the bed. They're looking into each other's faces.

"How are you?" she adds when Elliot doesn't reply. "What did the doctor say?"

"That I'll live," he replies dryly, his face a range of opportunities between shitty and good, as if he's not sure the doctor's verdict was good news or not. "And how are you?" he then asks.

"Same ol'," she replies, a half smile flashes and disappears on her lips.

They're silent for a long moment, just looking at each other, their eyes skimming each other's features.

"How long will you stay here?" she asks.

"Gonna ask to be released today," he replies and they're silent again. "I need to check in on my partner," he adds after a pause.

"Do you want me to go and find out?" she asks.

Just then the curtain is withdrawn and another nurse peeps in. "Mr. Stabler," she says, "your partner is going to be fine. He's had a minor surgery to get the bullet out of his leg. He'll be out in a couple of days. No major blood loss or damage."

Elliot's body visibly relaxes on the bed, as if up till then all his muscles were strained in an effort to keep himself together. "Thank you," he replies on a puff of air. "When can I go home?" he asks, but the nurse ignores him and turns her attention to Olivia.

"And you are…?" she asks her.

Olivia remembers her lie from when she entered the E.R. – that she was Elliot's partner. Obviously she can't use that lie now, not in front of him, and not when this nurse knows who his partner is. Emptiness spreads inside her because there's nothing she can say to replace it, no term defines her anymore when it comes to Elliot. She has floated far from what used to be her center of gravity.

"His wife? Ex-wife?" the nurse offers when Olivia hesitates, making her wonder what she knows of Elliot, or if ex-wives are just a viable assumption when it comes to cops.

"My former partner," Elliot replies, saving her the need to come up with something, terming her something akin to him.

 _'_ _What do you want, Elliot? My partner.'_ These two words and the abyss of meaning behind them, that've had a grasp on her heart for so long and were given to her as a confession just a few months ago, echo inside her.

"I see…," the nurse says, wondering if she should ask her to leave or not.

"When can I go?" Elliot repeats.

"Not today," the nurse replies. "You can't even sit up. I'll be right back." She then walks away, leaving them alone again.

"'Do you need help?" Olivia asks, remembering all the times she came to be with him in the hospital, only to find him alone, wondering why he hasn't called his wife.

"No, I'm fine," he replies, his face contorting with pain when he tries to pull himself up.

Instinctively she reaches and grabs his healthy shoulder, trying to help him sit up. The touch of his skin and muscles under her palms is tantalizing.

"I'm ok," he huffs in effort, as he manages to straighten up. Her hands drop from his body.

"I'd better go," she says, "before they kick me out. Should I call anyone for you?" she asks and for the first time she has no idea what she'd do if he said yes. Will he ask for Kathy, one of his kids, or someone else?

"No need," he says. "Liv," he adds when he notices she's turning to leave. She looks at him. "You…," he starts and stops, the words dying on his lips. His eyes drop from hers. "Can you help me with the shirt?" he then asks and her heart misses a beat, wondering what it was that he wanted to say and wondering how the hell he's asking her to help him dress when it's obvious that they shouldn't be touching each other.

"Sure," she mumbles and looks under the bed. There's a shelf there where they temporarily store the belongings of the patients before they release them or move them to a ward. A blood stained light blue pullover and a white short sleeved t-shirt are balled together there. She retrieves it. "There's blood," she states the obvious.

"It's ok, only till I get home," Elliot reassures and she looks up into his face. What the hell is she doing? She's not his partner anymore, she's not part of his life anymore, what is she doing here? And why does it feel like they fell right into a routine with each other, as if it wasn't months that passed since she last saw him, as if a river of confused emotions didn't run between them?

She straightens the white t-shirt and realizes that without the use of both his hands he wouldn't be able to wear it on. She leans closer to him and Elliot, in the usual quick motions he uses both for getting dressed and getting undressed, shoves his healthy right arm and his neck into it, and she leans over him to slowly help him raise his wounded left arm and get it through the sleeve. The warmth of his body, the smooth and strong feeling of it, the smell of his skin that even now, after being medically treated, still smells like him, drowns her. A low moan of pain leaves his throat, making her briefly shut her eyes for more than one reason.

She then moves away and picks up the long-sleeved pullover. "It's soaked," she says, looking at her fingers that now have Elliot's blood on them. Dear God.

"It's ok, I don't need this one," Elliot then says, "just shove it under the bed, they'll get rid of it."

"Do you want to just leave? How will you get home?" she asks.

"My Captain is on her way," Elliot replies. "She's probably with Ethan, my partner, making her way down the level of injury." He half jokes, but she's somewhat relieved that she wouldn't have to take him home. She's not sure she could make it without falling to pieces.

"Good," she sighs. "I'd better go now."

"Liv," he rasps again in that low voice that sends pangs and shivers down her spine and belly, more so now that she touched him and breathed him in again. "Thanks," he only adds.

She doesn't say a word, she can't. Olivia just flashes a strained, nervous smile and turns to leave, feeling his eyes on her the whole time.

Outside the room, she leans against the wall and takes a deep breath. The nurse that updated Elliot about his partner strides towards the door and gives her a small smile of recognition before she walks in. Olivia then straightens up and turns towards the exit. She needs time to glide by again, to put more days and weeks and months between her and Elliot, between her and that relapse.

But something gnaws at her. In their line of work, who knows when the next time will be, and who can assure her she's not going to be too late next time. And why is she letting her life depend on next times.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

And time continues to stream by. Only it's not flowing numbly as it did before. The veil has been lifted again and she has to face his absence and the way she misses him every single day.

Elliot knows better than to contact her, he's learnt his lesson and he probably discovered just how damaged she is. She should be thankful for that.

She walks the busy streets of New York, days and nights. Working or taking long walks when she can't be stranded in her apartment anymore. Thousands of people pass her by, millions maybe, some she'll see again, most she won't, faces that wouldn't register and people whose faces she doesn't even see and could never know if their paths ever cross again. But she doesn't need all these people, she needs just one. Just this one person. Her entire being is focused on one longitude and latitude that intersect in one person, one face. Elliot.

Knowing that he might still be waiting for her only adds to her state of constant ache. He might be back to his old new routine of casually seeing women, or he might have met someone new. He might be back with Lori for all she knows. It's killing her. But something inside her tells her that whichever it is, he's waiting, that it's in her own hands. She's seen it in his eyes on that hospital bed. Only she can't, she can't. She's not even sure why. She doesn't have good answers anymore. She has only fear, irrational one maybe, but it outweighs everything else.

She's paralyzed despite the equally deadpan fear that a 'next time' will catch up with them, that sooner or later something will happen and she won't be able to tell him, feel him, live, even if just for a while.

She catches a case and another, working with Fin, Alicia and Munch and the occasional detectives they have to cooperate with. One case follows another and the case that broke them becomes an almost distant memory. Almost, because the consequences of it are still haunting her.

When a gun is pointed to her head in a case she works with Alicia and cold sweat runs down her spine and fear melts her insides, there's one thought, one plea in her head.

One longitude and one latitude. It intersects in him, wherever he is. She bets on his apartment tonight.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Thank you SO much to all of you who have read, those that reviewed, those that PM'd me, and to everyone that hung in there till now despite me breaking your hearts initially. Love you all, seriously! Writing wouldn't be worth half its fun/fix/gratification if it wasn't for your feedback and love. Extra special thanks to L, who kicked my ass when I needed it and reassured me when I needed that.

"You can't wrap your arms around a memory" / Butterfly On A Wheel – The Mission

 **Chapter 17:**

She sleeps the whole day after coming home from the incident that included a gun that had been pointed to her head. She's on one of those forced leaves of a couple of days that are prescribed to cops that underwent trauma. She usually jumps right back to work, but it's almost the weekend anyway, and besides, she knew instantly that something had altered in her the minute the gun was removed. And now she's not sure if she's holding on to sleep because she's trying to forget yesterday or because she's trying to avoid what she's about to do today. Maybe it's both.

In the late afternoon she heavily pads to the kitchen and makes herself an extra strong cup of coffee. She then takes a long shower and dresses lazily while drinking her second cup, enjoying the fact that her mind isn't fully awake yet. But it's getting there.

She stalls for time. She can just stay home and not go. But she knows she will go. She has to. For herself.

It's almost 9pm when she parks the car down the street from Elliot's apartment building. She's been out here a few times before, when she dropped him off after work or picked him up when he was still her partner. She even saw the inside of the apartment, when he asked her if she wanted to take a look once he got settled there. She had been there for a whole of five minutes before she refused a beer bottle, excused herself and took the car home. It wasn't that the apartment was bad or anything, it was actually nice, but it felt strange to be there alone with him and it was back when she still thought he'd crawl right back to Kathy in no time. He invited her one more time and she found an excuse to refuse. He never asked her again since.

And now she has to bring herself somehow to his door. It wouldn't be a problem if she lets her heart take over. It's her mind that stops her with its calculated warnings that are based on a collection of facts that to the most part indicate failure. Her failures, past and present. And Elliot's.

But the raw memory of yesterday drives her out of the car and into the building. She can't wait for another 'next time'. Statistically it would be stupid. Emotionally it would be unendurable.

A thick wooden door with the letters 2B is what separates her and Elliot right now. He's home, she knows it. Looking up towards the relevant lit windows from the street was her cop instinct, and so was detecting his parked NYPD squad car despite its apparent plain looks.

2B. To be. She still stalls for time.

But then she knocks and then he opens the door and they're standing at both sides of the threshold, gazing at each other.

"Olivia," he says, surprised, though his tone is almost flat as if he's indicating a fact, using her full name.

"Hey," she only says. He either showered right before, or she forgot how he usually is, because she's swamped with the clean scent of his familiar soap, aftershave and detergent that waft towards her from his body and his t-shirt.

"Is everything ok?" he asks, looking worried, and she wants to laugh, because something must be wrong if she suddenly appears on his doorstep.

"Yeah," she replies, and Elliot, remembering himself, opens the door all the way and motions her with his head to come in.

Standing at the entrance to his apartment, she stops a few steps away from the front door, hesitating, waiting for Elliot to lead the way. He locks the door and comes to stand next to her, as if he's not sure himself what to do with his visitor.

"It looks a bit better now, right?" he asks, motioning towards the inside of the apartment, trying to break the silence between them.

"It always looked nice," she replies.

There's a silent pause. They're glancing ahead, not daring to look at each other.

"I brought take-out, Italian," Elliot suddenly says, and it's his opportunity to briefly look at her. "Are you hungry?"

"I don't know," she says though he's already turning towards the kitchen, as if he needs to put some distance between them. She wasn't sure how exactly things were going to play out, what exactly she should be doing once she finally saw him. The only things on her mind pretty much summed up to 'I miss you' and 'I'm scared', though she knew she wouldn't say them, at least not like that. In a way she was hoping he'd know that, without her having to utter it. Maybe he already knows.

She follows him and stops to stand not far from the round kitchen table that fills almost the entire small open-space. When you have five children you want a round table so you could see them all in your Wednesdays and every-other-weekend, that even though legally applies just to the youngest of them, actually includes all of them because you made them promise to try and come at least that often to spend some time with you.

He unpacks two cardboard boxes from a paper bag and the smell of tomatoes, olive oil, garlic and cooked pasta starts permeating through. Olivia doesn't feel hungry at all, and from the look of him, Elliot has lost his appetite too, he's just keeping himself busy because he's not exactly sure how to handle his former partner who suddenly appeared on his doorstep after two months of silence and preceding months of emotional turbulence. He doesn't trust himself anymore when it comes to her, because it seems he erred all along, in whichever way he tried.

"I'm sorry I dropped on you like that," she says and the words echo the ones he told her so many weeks ago when he came over to the conference hotel.

"It's ok," he says, raising his eyes and locking his gaze on her.

"I'm not hungry," she then says, because it's not fair to him to just act like she's a normal guest or friend who dropped by, when she's everything but, and he's probably waiting for her to explain what she's doing there.

"Me neither," he replies, just as she thought.

"How's your shoulder?" she asks, taking a step in his direction.

"Almost forgot about it by now," he says, closing back the take-out boxes, and then, after a short pause he brings his eyes back to hers and adds "what happened, Liv?"

"Work," she replies and he nods his head once, creasing his lips, understanding, because it pretty much says it all, though he's waiting for her to say more. He doesn't want to pressure her.

They're silent for a moment, looking at each other.

"So how do you see this working?" she suddenly blurts because she's not going to make small talk. It's not them, and she's not going to fake a normal routine when they have none, when they fell out of one long ago.

His face wears the expression of 'good question' - his eyes and mouth reflect a small simper. He brings his glance back to her. "I don't know. One day at a time, I guess."

He's being honest and truthful and she appreciates it. He understands her almost without words. That's probably what she missed the most. That, and the anchoring feeling he gives her even though he hasn't done anything or said much yet. It's in the way he looks at her, in the way she gravitates back towards herself when she's with him. They used to be like that before he got divorced and then it was gone and she lost her footing, but after Lori they found it back again, too late, and she couldn't handle it though it kept ticking inside her, till this very moment.

He doesn't add anything, because he's afraid that if he says too much, asks for too much, she'd go again.

"Are you with anyone?" she then asks, still cutting to the chase, her heartbeat loud in her own ears.

"No. No point." He replies quietly, his eyes locked on hers. She knows exactly how that feels. No point in anyone else, because no one can come instead. She sucks in and bites on her bottom lip as her mind digests what he's just told her.

It's surreal. They're standing there in his kitchen, he's on the other side of the table from her, and she's a few feet away from the table, as if needing the closeness of the front door in case she has to escape. And she's questioning him as if it hasn't been two months since they've seen each other, since they've spoken to one another, as if this thing between them has always been out there, as if his proximity isn't making her body shriek with yearn to feel the hard plains that his white t-shirt clings to, as if her fingers don't almost tremble with the need to smooth over the tattooed biceps and forearms that she wants wrapped around her, as if her mouth can't remember the taste of his, as if her eyes don't drown in the things she can read in his.

He's waiting for her to say something, she can see it. There's not much to say. It's a take it or leave it type of point that they've reached. Her instinct tells her to leave it, because she's not cut out for it. She's only going to screw this up even more than it already is.

"Liv, don't go," Elliot then says, as if he can read her mind.

She's silent and he takes a few steps, moving around the table, towards her, though stopping a few feet away from her.

Knowing now what he knows, he can't imagine how it's been for her, seeing him married for years and years, and then divorced, wasting himself on a few others, casual as it may have been. Whenever she had someone, he was jealous as fuck, even when he tried his best to be happy for her, it killed him inside to think of another man with her. It's the kind of shameful pain that is best coped with alone. It's the kind of pain that makes you want to take your anger out on the other person, in an attempt to feel something other than love for them. So if what she felt was even a fraction of it, notwithstanding everything else that they've been through, he can't blame her for getting so deeply cut by him and wanting to stay away from him, especially when he admitted his fears to her – that their starting point with each other, with life maybe, hasn't exactly placed them in the optimal base to succeed in this.

But he was wrong and all these fears were futile, because him and her – it's inevitable. He needs her to know this.

"It won't end, Liv," he says and he knows she understands – that this pull between them, that keeps them seeking each other again and again, it won't end, though they both can't be sure that if they go for it, it'll last. He knew that at some point one of them would come to the other, and if it weren't her tonight, it'd be him another day.

"Maybe," she says though she knows he's right. She tried so hard, but this connection between them, this anchor that ties them, this need to belong to him, it keeps failing her. And they've been both trying to defy it – she knows it now – he by abstaining from her before, she by abstaining from him always, always except for the times she let go.

"And it's ok, to feel like this," he says, his tone soft, his eyes trying to hold her gaze, and he doesn't have to add the words ' _to be scared'_ , for her to know that this is what he means.

"A victim held a gun to my head yesterday," she suddenly says. She sees the question in his eyes, so she continues. "We came to arrest him. He killed his attacker and he was scared to death of going to jail."

"Liv, I'm sorry," he says and she can see on his face that if he could, if he dared, he would put his arms around her now. Instead he's taking two more steps in her direction. "Are you ok?"

"You knew that something had to happen for me to come here, right?" she asks, a small sad smile flashing on her face.

He doesn't reply, maybe because he's afraid to admit that it took a bullet in his body or a gun to her head to bring her to him.

"Do you see where I'm going with this?" she insists.

"Yes," he replies. If something scared her enough to make her come to him now and two months ago in the hospital, what did it take him to finally go for her back then.

"What made you…after all that time?" she asks, as he expected, and it's one of the hardest questions she has, for both of them.

"For so long it wasn't something I was supposed…to feel. It didn't make sense. And then I didn't want to fuck it up, Liv. It was too important."

She nods her head slowly, her teeth sink into her bottom lip, as she lets his words sink into her. "So what happened?"

"I fucked it up anyway, lost you…" His eyes pierce hers and she can't look away. Losing each other is the only thing that scares them enough to realize things. "I'm shit at this," he adds.

"Me too," her voice comes out as a half-whisper. _We burn everything_.

"I don't think so," he says, slightly shaking his head.

She exhales a skeptic scoffing puff of air through a small sad lop sided smile.

"I don't think you're shit at this, Liv. I just…you never really tried, you never thought it was worth the effort."

 _And whose fault is it?_ she asks in her head. The only one she ever thought was worth the effort of really trying, of getting over her fears, was first married and then on the rebound. She never really dealt with her lifelong fear - that love evaporates like alcohol, that she can't afford getting used to it and then losing it, that she can't be good at this – but Elliot made it all burst the surface, because he's the only one she's ever loved enough to really face it. And if there's anything she learnt from the cold muzzle that was pressed to her head yesterday, it's that she has to deal with it, once and for all, that she wants to. She can wallow in fear and have a panic attack because the man she loves is trapped just like she is and they both can't let go. But she can also succumb to him, to this, instead. In a way, she already has. Physically, emotionally. She should be able to take this next step.

"Liv," he repeats her name, because she's silent and maybe because in her eyes and on her face he can read that he was spot on.

"And yours?" she asks, _is it worth your effort_. After everything, she needs to know.

"It was never a question," he replies and she closes her eyes for a moment and opens them again to find his eyes skimming her face and his blue gaze is so intense that it almost feels as if his fingers are doing it instead.

"And if we burn this…," she starts but doesn't finish her sentence, her question. He understands her anyway.

Elliot takes another step or two and he's well in front of her now.

"And if we don't?" he asks and his voice is low, a raspy half-whisper, his eyes trailing her face and hers follow his, which means her gaze skims his face too, dropping to his mouth that mumbles "we won't," and the way his lips pronounce the rounded words makes her lean towards him, which in turn makes him inch closer to her, tilt his head, bring his mouth close to hers, his fingers light under her chin, tipping her mouth towards his. Their breaths intermix, their lips first softly brush till their mouths meld in a surrendering, open mouthed kiss.

His taste. His chest that is now touching hers. His palm that moves to gently cup her face, splay under her ear and into her hair. His other arm that slides around her waist, pressing her further to him, as they deepen their eager kiss.

Her arms slowly glide up his body and her palms stop on his biceps, as they're holding on to each other.

Bulks of seconds and moments and even light years could go by, and she wouldn't know, because nothing matters now.

Elliot then slowly detaches his lips from hers, but not entirely, with shorter and shorter kisses, they're finally able to stop and, slightly panting, gaze into each other's eyes. Wasted years, hushed feelings, unsaid words – it's all left behind now. Elliot then wraps her in his arms entirely and crushes her to him in a long, silent embrace. Her face buries between his neck and shoulder, his is pressed against hers, partly concealed by her hair.

One longitude, one latitude. It's homecoming.

It's intoxicating.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

She can't remember if she kissed his neck first, needing to taste the scent of his skin, or if it was him who sought her mouth again, or both; but now she has a faint feeling that her feet are moving, taking her to Elliot's bedroom, she's not exactly sure because she's just drifting in a mist of desire, his taste in her mouth, her palms on his hard, warm body.

She feels herself being lifted as Elliot hoists her up and then gently lays her down on his bed, his body hovering above her before his weight presses her into the mattress. She's lightheaded, wishing this will never end despite the aching need that throbs inside her.

He's everywhere, his hands gliding, raking, caressing, his lips and tongue taunting, devouring. Hers do the same. They're not in a hurry, they're taking the time to familiarize themselves with each other's bodies, with every part they expose, first by helping each other out of their shirts, then her bra, and after a while their pants, and a while later her panties and his boxer briefs.

Elliot is strong and hard and intense, but also tender and lingering and his body is reading hers and adjusting and synching to her need and crave and heat.

He's inducing soft moans out of her. She makes him groan. Whispers of each other's names, breaths expelled against each other's lips, clouding them and further adding to Olivia's sense of being in a haze that is made of her and Elliot alone. His palm is smoothing along her thigh that is wrapped around him as he sinks deep into her, their breaths a mix, and his other hand reaches for hers, their fingers intertwining, their arms pinned at the side of her head, and Elliot is watching her face, her eyes that drift shut at the sensation of it all and then open again to lock with his. He then lowers his head, his mouth landing on hers in a deep kiss.

It's new and familiar all at once. It's familiar from all the years that have linked them in so many ways, that inked them on each other, and it's new because last time it was satisfying famine, and now it's a slow burn. They're melting down, morphing into each other. Anchored.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

When she's lying in his arms three hours later, after they got up to eat that Italian takeout, returned to his bed and surrendered to each other again, Olivia still feels that this is almost surreal and that reality will catch up with them at some point.

She raises her head from Elliot's chest and leans it on her palm, observing him from above.

"What?" he smiles, his hand is sent to fiddle with her hair that encircles her face.

"It's too natural," she says, her eyes narrowing, questioning.

"You're saying it like it's bad," Elliot replies, a half-smirk on his lips. Her eyes skim his face, then slide down to his chest, and it's strange, lying here naked next to Elliot's bare body.

"It's…strange. A bit screwed up…don't you think?" she asks, her eyes return to his, looking for answers.

"You know why," he rasps, using the words he once challenged her with. Then pulling her to him and rolling them so he's lying on top of her again, he adds against her lips, "the truth. I love you."

She feels the words huffed against her lips, she feels the smile on his, and she mirrors it, admitting the absurdity of their situation and its inevitability.

Olivia doesn't have to say it back with words.

 **Epilogue:**

One day at a time, one night at a time. They don't really need it, because without the bottled up tension, they're not burning anything, even when they argue, which happens from time to time because they're too alike.

They continue in different precincts but they give up one apartment. It happens fast but she doesn't say anything at work. She's always been private and now she clings to it even more. But rumors fly fast and one day Munch lowers his voice after a pause in their conversation during a coffee break at work. "Told you he'd get over the rebound," he says and she averts her gaze and stifles a smile. Two days later, when she's about to leave her Captain's office after briefing him on her progress in one of her cases, Cragen suddenly looks at her and his expression is neutral when he quietly says "congratulations, Olivia. Tell Elliot too." She mumbles "thanks, Cap," and leaves his office.

They have to face people's surprise or the lack of which, but she doesn't care, because at night she goes home to Elliot. And although it still feels a little strange and surreal, and maybe it always will, she can get used to it - to his arms around her, to his mouth against hers, to the freedom to slide her fingers into the gaps between his shirt buttons and help him take it off so she could enjoy what's underneath it, but most of all – to her ability to finally tell him that she's missed him, that she loves him, that she's scared, and to hear it back.

 _Finis_


End file.
